/*«,. 

JC.X.J. 


SAINT  LEGER, 


THE  THREADS  OF  LIFE. 


aiCHARD  B.  KIMBALL. 


1  Quicquid  agunt  homines,  votum,  timor,  ira,  voluptas, 
Gaudia,  diseursus,  nosrri  farrago  libellj." 


TMIKD    F.TTTIOJT. 


N  E  W    Y  O  R  K  : 
GEORGE  P.  PUTNAM,  155  BROADWAY. 

1850. 


.CO 


% 


■ 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849, 

By  G.  P.  PUTNAM, 

the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED    BY   C.   C.   SAVAGE, 
13  Chambers  Street,  N.  Y. 


At  the  age  of  twenty-three  years  I  find  myself  upon  the  threshold 
of  two  worlds.  The  Past  summons  the  thousand  incidents  which 
have  operated  to  determine  me  as  a  responsible  being,  and  presents 
them  before  me,  with  fearful  vividness.  The  Present  seems  like 
nothing  beneath  my  feet.  And  the  Future,  no  longer  a  shadowy 
dream,  throics  open  its  endless  vista,  and  whispers  that  I  must  soon 
enter  upon  all  its  untried,  unknown  realities.  Here  I  am  permitted 
to  pause  a  moment,  ere  I  commence  upon  that  new  existence  which  ends 
only  with  the  Infinite. 

I  have  finished  my  life  upon  earth.  The  ties  which  connect  me 
with  the  world  have  parted.  I  have  to  do  now  only  with  eternity. 
Yet  something  which  I  may  not  resist,  impels  me  to  retrospection.  I 
look  back  over  my  short  pilgrimage,  and  feel  a  yearning  which  lean 
not  restrain,  to  put  down  a  narrative  of  my  brief  existence,  and  to 
mark  the  several  changes  tvhich  have  come  over  my  spirit,  in  the  hope 
that  the  young,  with  whom  I  chiefly  sympathize,  may  profit  by  the 
recital. 

But  ivhat  will  this  avail  to  youthful  spirits,  flushed  with  the  glow 
of  health,  secure  in  their  fancied  strength,  determined  on  enjoyment  1 
To  them  the  world  is  everything.  Alas,  they  know  not  that  the  world 
will  reward  them  with  infamy,  if  they  trust  alone  to  it!  Yet  it  is  to 
such  I  make  my  appeal.  I  would  arrest  them,  before  they  cease  to 
have  sympathy  with  every  saving  influence,  because  of  their  habitual 
opposition  to  it. 

But  I  will  not  anticipate  the  moral  of  my  life.  Let  this  be  gath- 
ered from  the  record  of  it. 


BOOK    I. 

— Oviiv  CfiKtSov,  aXX'  onus  tf  KVKeoiva  navTa  avvtiXiovTtit,  xai  tori  raitird  rtpxpis 

drcpipin,  yvtiois  ayvwairi,  piya  jitKp6v,  ai/oj  kutu  ircpi^opciovTa,  Ka\  ajiuRdptva   iv  rfj 

rov  aiiZvos  xaitiitj. 

Lucian,   Vitarum  Audio,  303. 

— Where  nothing  was  fixed,  but,  as  in  a  mixture,  all  things  were  con- 
founded ;  where  pleasure  and  pain,  knowledge  and  ignorance,  great  and 
small,  were  the  same ;  where  all  things  up  and  down  were  circling  round  in 
a  choral  dance,  and  ever  changing  places  as  in  the  sport  of  eternity. 


laint  3Ceger. 


The  Saint  Leger  family  have  resided  in  Warwickshire  for 
a  long  period.  My  father,  who  was  fond  of  tracing  genealo- 
gies, affirmed  that  the  estate  upon  which  we  lived  was  be- 
stowed upon  Bertold  Saint  Leger  by  Richard  the  lion-hearted, 
for  the  conspicuous  services  which  he  had  rendered  that  mon- 
arch in  his  war  with  the  Saracen.  How  such  an  uninter- 
rupted possession  had  been  maintained  for  so  long  a  time, 
and  through  every  successive  revolution,  my  father  did  not 
explain.  The  task  might  have  proved  difficult.  At  any  rate, 
if  was  well  to  rest  satisfied  with  an  account  which  appeared 
every  way  authentic.  Be  this  as  it  may,  our  family  was  cer- 
tainly an  ancient  one. 

My  grandfather,  Hugh  Saint  Leger,  by  his  marriage  with  a 
lady  of  large  fortune,  became  possessed  of  the  valuable  estate 
which  joined  Bertold  Castle,  and  was  considered  one  of  the 
wealthiest  gentlemen  in  Warwickshire.  This  large  patrimony 
fell  to  my  father,  who  was  an  only  child. 

Bertold  castle  was  a  singular,  grotesque-looking  pile,  half 
ancient,  half  modern,  in  its  appearance.  Up  to  the  time  of 
my  father's  marriage,  it  remained  as  it  had  stood  for  genera- 
tions. The  castle  was  built  upon  the  very  brink  of  the  Avon, 
and  its  foundations  were  deeper,  it  was  eaid,  than  the  bed  of 


8  --T  fcEfiER. 

the  river.  The  old  moss,  which  covered  its  walls,  extended 
down  into  the  stream,  so  that  the  castle  seemed  to  rise  directly 
from  the  water.  Many  were  the  dismal  stories  which  were 
told  of  Crungeone  far  under  ground,  of  secret  passages,  be- 
nc.iili  the  bed  of  the  river,  communicating  with  the  other  side, 
h ti.1  of  cruelties  practised  upon  the  unhappy  prisoners  con- 
fined in  them  in  days  of  yore,  and  especially  in  the  time  of 
the  famous  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  of  whom  my  ancestor  was 
a  firm  adherent.  It  was  said,  too,  that  the  spirits  of  these 
unfortunate  persons  still  haunted  the  neighborhood,  and  made 
the  green  banks  of  the  Avon  their  place  of  meeting.  The 
low  murmur  of  the  stream,  as  it  swept  gently  under  the  walls 
of  the  castle,  was  said  to  be  the  voices  of  these  spirits,  as  they 
breathed  their  lamentations  over  the  waters  which  had  been 
the  oily  witness  of  their  sufferings.  I  speak  of  nursery  tales 
and  neighborhood  gossip,  not  of  course  credited  by  the  en- 
lightened, but  which  served  to  fill  my  infant  mind  with  terror 
and  awe.  And  as  this  sketch  is  intended  to  give  the  history 
of  my  mental,  as  well  as  of  my  external  life,  I  dwell  with  the 
more  minuteness  on  those  things  which  first  affected  it  most 
powerfully. 

On  my  father's  marriage  with  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  no- 
ble families  in  Warwickshire,  the  castle  was  almost  completely 
metamorphosed.  His  pride  would  not  permit  him  to  throw 
down  a  single  stone  of  the  stanch  pile  which  had  stood  so 
long  a  tower  of  strength  for  his  ancestors  ;  while  the  improve- 
ments of  the  age  required  a  mansion  more  in  accordance  with 
its  refined  and  peaceful  spirit.  It  was  consequently  resolved 
to  add  to  the  pile  a  splendid  modern  structme,  which  was  to 
become,  par  excellence,  the  residence  of  the  family.  The  old 
dining-hall  and  the  state-rooms  were  however  allowed  to  re- 
main in  all  their  sombre  grandeur.  The  library  was  not  quite 
dismantled ;    but    all    of  the     handsomer    books    were    re- 


SAINT  LEGER.  9 

moved  into  the  new  room,  built  for  that  purpose.  Enough 
nevertheless  remained  to  save  it  from  utter  neglect,  although 
the  dusty  cobwebs  around  the  walls  gave  evidence  of  the 
slight  attention  it  received. 

The  older  servants  saw  with  dismay  the  preparations  for 
enlarging  the  establishment ;  looking  upon  it  as  a  virtual 
abandonment  of  the  "  Old  Castle."  This  was  considered  a 
bad  omen,  and  to  augur  the  termination  or  downfall  of  our 
house.  A  prophecy  was  quoted  relative  to  the  dreaded  event, 
now  about  to  take  place,  which  was  said  to  be  of  great  an- 
tiquity : 

"  When  ye  Saint  Leger  shal  marrie  a  virgyn  fair, 
Shal  build  a  new  eastel  both  wondrous  and  rare, 
Lett  him  warnynge  tak,  for  ye  last  of  his  race 
Shal  hee  meet  in  y*  eastel,  face  to  face." 

My  grandfather  held  this  prophecy  in  high  veneration.  He 
was  wont  to  say,  "  With  so  plain  a  warning  in  view,  the  Saint 
Legers  would  stand  an  unbroken  name  for  countless  genera- 
tions." The  consequence  was,  that  nothing  was  done  to 
the  old  castle,  except  what  came  strictly  under  the  denom- 
ination of  repairs.  Improvements  were  not  thought  of.  At 
length,  Hugh  Saint  Leger  was  gathered  to  his|fithers,  and  the 
great  gong  of  the  castle  struck  his  requiem  amid  the  weeping 
and  lamentation  of  relatives,  servants,  and  retainers';  for  he 
was  a  man  of  many  virtues ;  both  generous  and  kind,  though 
stern  in  his  manner,  and  possessing  somewhat  of  the  haughty 
bearing  of  the  preceding  age. 

My  father  was  educated  at  a  more  enlightened  period,  when 
improvements  waxed  rife  ;  when  distinctions  began  to  soften, 
and  changes  to  be  thought  necessary.  He  affected  to  disre- 
gard the  prophecy  which  had  been  always  so  religiously  be- 
lieved. He  maintained  that  the  old  castle  was  built  mainly 
with  a  view  to  defence,  in  case  of  attack  ;  that  it  possessed 
great  conveniences  for  a  garrison,  but  comparatively  few  for 


10  SAINT  LEGER. 

a  family  residence  ;  and  while  he  revered  it  as  the  home  of 
his  fathers,  regarding  with  just  pride  the  frowning  battlements, 
wlrieh  had  resisted  every  assault,  still  he  maintained  that  there 
could  exist  no  reason  why  improvements  should  not  be  made, 
which  might  accord  with  the  present  state  of  things.  The 
"  addition"  was  consequently  resolved  upon.  My  father  was 
particular  always  to  give  it  that  name,  secretly  deciding,  per- 
haps, that  by  so  doing  he  avoided  the  letter  of  the  prophecy. 
The  new  mansion  was  built.  My  father  married.  Years 
rolled  happily  away.  He  was  blessed  with  three  promising 
children  ;  and  everything  went  on  joyously  and  well.  My 
own  recollections  are  of  my  home  in  the  improved  state  I 
have  described.  From  the  old  servants  however  I  learned  at 
an  early  age  the  existence  of  the  prophecy,  and  the  fearful 
construction  which  superstition  had  given  it.  Little  was  said 
openly  ;  but  the  deprecatory  air,  the  sombre,  melancholy  look, 
which  two  or  three  of  the  old  crones,  who  had  become  super- 
annuated in  our  service,  constantly  wore,  were  always  a  sore 
interruption  to  our  childish  sports.  Did  we  meet  them  while 
full  of  the  elastic,  happy,  feeling  which  children  so  much 
enjoy,  it  was  jlways  :  "  Poor  children  !  God  preserve  ye  : 
Who  knows  what  ye  may  come  to!  God  send  ye  an  easy 
death  !"  and  the  like. 

My  brother  —  I  had  but  one,  and  he  was  my  senior — seem- 
ed but  little  affected  by  these  prophecies  of  evil,  while  upon 
my  own  mind  they  produced  a  chilling  and  lasting  effect. 
Like  the  insect  that  flutters  nearer  and  nearer  the  flame  which 
is  to  prove  its  destruction,  I  used  to  steal  away  and  hold  daily 
conferences  with  these  old  creatures ;  and  hour  after  hour 
was  wont  to  be  entertained  with  stories  of  the  bloody  wars  in 
which  old  Bertold  Saint  Leger  figured;  of  the  exploits  of  the 
famous  Guy  of  Warwick  ;  and  of  my  brave  grandfather, 
Hus;h  Saint  Leerer,  the  last  worthv  of  the  race,  as  thev  were 


SAINT  LEGER.  IX 

pleased  to  style  him  ;  always  concluding  however,  by  quoting 
the  dreaded  prophecy,  and  assuring  me  that  I  was  doomed. 

These  lessons,  so  often  inculcated,  began  to  produce  their 
impression.  Somehow  I  took  to  myself  the  whole  force  of 
the  prediction,  regarding  my  brother  and  sister  as  exempt 
from  its  influence. 

The  result  was,  that  in  my  very  childhood  I  became  serious 
and  thoughtful.  Life,  in  its  spring-time,  was  losing  every 
charm.     The  world  looked  no  longer  joyous  and  gay. 

I  had  begun  to  suffer. 

II. 

Strange  season  of  childhood !  marked  by  cloud  and  sun- 
shine ;  foil  of  light-hearted  pleasures  and  fresh  griefs ;  yet 
how  fraught  with  consequences  when  the  new-created  being, 
ushered  into  life,  commences  upon  immortality !  Precious 
season,  when  every  new  object  makes  an  impression,  and 
every  impression  is  indelible  !  And  what  fearful  issues  hang 
upon  each  !  issues  which  reach  through  time,  and  peradven- 
ture  into  eternity. 

III. 

In  order  to  present  a  proper  narrative  of  my  life,  I  should 
give  some  account  of  those  who  exercised  most  influence  upon 
it.  My  father  was  in  many  respects  a  singular  man.  He 
possessed  in  a  great  degree  the  stern  nature  of  my  grandfa- 
ther, which  was  nevertheless  considerably  modified  by  a  natu- 
ral urbanity  of  manner,  which  old  Hugh  Saint  Leger  never 
manifested.  He  had  a  warm,  generous  heart,  and  was  devo- 
tedly attached  to  his  wife  and  children.  Although  a  younger 
brother,  I  never  could  perceive  any  difference  in  the  treat- 
ment of  his  sons.     He  was  equally  affectionate  toward  both, 


12  SAINT  LEGKR. 

yet  never  familiar  with  either.  His  urbanity  was  manifested 
in  social  life  with  his  friends  and  acquaintances  ;  but  when 
any  one  sought  his  intimacy,  a  repulse  was  certain.  Yet  he 
was  neither  haughty  nor  overbearing.  Pride  he  certainly 
possessed ;  yet  it  seemed  a  just  and  honest  pride,  rather  than 
the  vain  conceit  of  a  weak  mind.  From  his  children  he  not 
only  expected  obedience,  to  the  letler,  but  he  never  suffered 
his  commands  or  wishes  to  be  questioned.  I  well  remember 
once  unconsciously  asking  him  why,  I  must  do  some  act  which 
he  had  commanded,  and  the  withering  sternness  of  his  re- 
sponse as  he  re-echoed  the  command,  without  deigning  any 
explanation.  In  justice  I  should  add,  that  his  requirements 
were  reasonable  and  proper,  although  to  a  wayward  child 
they  might  seem  otherwise.  In  his  religion  my  father  was 
strict  and  devoted.  He  hated  with  a  pious  indignation,  and 
early  instilled  in  the  minds  of  his  children  an  abhorrence  of 
the  Romish  church.  Frenchmen  were  another  aversion,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  could  bring  himself  to  treat  one 
with  civility.  Possessing  in  the  main  sound  views,  he  enter- 
tained violent  prejudices,  which  it  was  impossible  to  change. 
He  was  not  ambitious,  except  for  his  children.  He  omitted 
nothing  which  might  insure  to  them  every  advantage,  as  well 
in  education  as  in  personal  advancement.  For  them  he  la- 
bored and  planned.  No  expense  was  too  great,  no  sacrifice 
too  large.  But  if  my  father  was  ready  to  do  all  this,  much 
did  he  expect  in  return.  What  he  thought  we  could  accom- 
plish, we  were  compelled  to  accomplish,  no  matter  though 
the  task  were  difficult,  nay  overwhelming.  No  excuse  was 
accepted.  In  vain  we  sometimes  pleaded  that  our  compan- 
ions were  not  tasked  so  heavily.  With  something  like  a  sneer, 
he  would  reply,  "  If  you  ever  wish  to  be  anything,  do  not 
talk  about  what  others  do,  but  set  your  mark  away  beyond 
them   all.  and  when   once  the   mark  is  fixed,  let  there  be  no 


SAINT  LEGER.  13 

drawing  back.  Try,  and  the  thing  will  be  done."  And  try 
we  did,  until  it  seemed  as  if  no  labor  was  half  so  hard  as 
ours.  Yet  after  all,  we  generally  fulfilled  what  was  required, 
and  had  the  satisfaction  of  making  glad  a  parent's  heart. 

I  do  not  think  I  could  have  borne  so  cheerfully  all  that  my 
father  imposed  upon  me,  had  it  not  been  for  my  mother. 
What  a  world  of  feeling  and  tenderness  is  in  that  name  ! 
Though  still  living,  let  me  pay  her  the  tribute  which  I  can  not 
withhold.  I  should  think  my  duty  but  half  accomplished,  did 
I  omit  to  record  what  I  owe  to  her.  In  disposition  she  was 
angelic.  I  think  I  never  saw  her  ruffled  in  temper,  or  dis- 
composed. She  was  mild,  yet  dignified,  and  possessed  a 
sweetness  of  manner  which  was  perfectly  fascinating.  Above 
all,  she  was  devotedly  pious,  and  it  was  her  first  care  to  instil 
into  the  minds  of  her  children  a  love  for  sacred  things.  Morn- 
ing and  evening  did  I  lisp  my  infantile  prayers  to  her,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  she  sent  them  up  for  me  to  God. 

"  Come,  William,  it  is  high  time  to  be  up,  if  you  wish  to 
go  out  with  Roger  to  the  Park,  across  the  Avon,  and  see  the 
new  rookery.  The  sun  is  up  long  before  you.  Do  not  you 
hear  the  larks  singing  1  It  will  soon  be  breakfast  time,  and 
Roger  can  not  wait." — "  Dear  mother,  I  am  so  sleepy." — "  You 
are  !  and  how  long  has  my  son  been  in  bed  1  Eight  hours, 
and  sleepy  yet.  You  must  not  become  a  sluggard." — "  Moth- 
er, mother,  I  want  to  whisper  to  you ;  I  forgot  my  prayers 
last  night.  You  were  away,  and  I  fell  asleep  without  saying 
them." — "  My  son,  you  should  be  careful  never  to  forget 
them.  You  should  remember  who  keeps  you  alive,  and 
makes  you  so  happy  ;  and  you  should  always  put  yourself 
under  His  care  before  yoit  sleep.  But  God  will  forgive  my 
little  boy,  for  he  was  very  tired  last  night." — "  Mother,  let  me 
say  my  prayers  now."  All  this  comes  upon  me  with  the 
freshness  of  first  ideas.     And  it  is  just  what  my  dear  mother 


14  SAINT  LEGER. 

said  to  me  —  I  remember  it  so  distinctly.  Day  after  day  she 
would  impress  some  religious  truth  upon  my  mind,  and  so 
kindly,  so  tenderly,  that  it  would  have  melted  an  older  heart 
than  mine.  How  she  loved  me  :  how  she  loves  me  still : 
perhaps  with  a  difference  in  the  feeling  too. 


IV. 

To  my  mother  I  came  with  my  troubles  ;  to  her  I  repeated 
all  my  grievances,  save  one.  I  never  could  name  to  her  what 
sat  heaviest  at  my  heart — the  belief  that  I  was  doomed.  Of- 
ten did  she  perceive  that  something  afflicted  me ;  and  most 
soothingly  did  she  attempt  to  discover  the  cause  ;  but  my 
tongue  refused  to  do  its  office,  if  I  desired  to  tell  her ;  and 
my  only  relief  was  in  tears.  My  mother  sometimes  thought 
that  my  fears  were  of  a  religious  nature ;  and  she  would  ac- 
cordingly attempt  to  comfort  me  by  the  merciful  promises  of 
the  Scriptures.  But  in  vain.  The  prophecy  haunted  me. 
And  to  the  one  of  all  others  who  might  have  afforded  me  con- 
solation I  could  not  speak  of  it. 

My  brother  Hugh  was  more  than  five  years  older  than  my- 
self, and  of  course  was  rather  a  protector  than  a  playfellow. 
He  was  a  noble  boy ;  kind  in  his  nature,  quick  in  his 
feelings,  forgiving  and  generous.  We  loved  each  other 
fondly.  Evil  betide  the  one  who  dared  offer  indignity  to  me 
when  Hugh  was  present !  He  took  a  pride  in  defending  me, 
and  fancied  himself  a  man,  as  he  fought  battles  and  achieved 
victories  in  my  behalf.  He  was  intelligent  and  apt  in  his 
studies,  though  not  of  a  thoughtful  turn.  He  had  a  fine 
voice,  prepossessing  manners,  and  a  rapid  flow  of  language,  to- 
gether with  a  commanding  energy  of  character,  which  over- 
came every  obstacle. 

My  little  sister  was  a  general  favorite  ;   and  though  in  great 


SAINT  LEGER.  15 

danger  of  being  spoiled  in  consequence,  yet  by  the  judicious 
government  of  both  parents,  she  was  preserved  from  such  an 
unhappy  fate.  She  was  like  her  mother  in  disposition,  and 
being  educated  at  home,  under  her  immediate  direction,  it 
was  no  wonder  that  the  resemblance  daily  grew  stronger. 

I  will  mention  one  more,  and  our  family  are  all  told.  There 
resided  with  my  father  a  maiden  aunt,  many  years  older  than 
himself,  who  had  always  lived  at  the  castle.  She  was  a 
younger  sister  of  Hugh  Saint  Leger,  and  had  occupied  one 
room  in  the  old  castle  for  many  years.  This  was  a  small  but 
neatly  finished  chamber,  on  the  river  side,  commanding  a  fine 
view  of  the  Avon,  and  the  country  beyond. 

This  singular  woman,  at  the  time  of  my  birth,  was  at  least 
sixty.  In  appearance  she.  was  tall  and  commanding.  Her 
hair  was  perfectly  white,  and  she  wore  it  short  over  her 
head.  She  had  gray  eyes,  which  sparkled  with  the  bright- 
ness of  youth,  and  retained  all  their  original  quickness  of  vis- 
ion. Her  habits  were  peculiar.  She  required  but  little  ser- 
vice, although  one  of  the  old  crones  I  spoke  of  was  always 
in  attendance  upon  her.  "With  the  family  her  intercourse 
was  singular  enough.  She  rarely  came  to  the  table,  and 
never  sought  the  society  of  any  one  ;  yet  when  addressed, 
she  would  mingle  freely  in  conversation,  showing  remarkable 
accuracy  in  matters  of  history,  and  especially  in  chronology. 
She  spent  most  of  the  lime  either  in  her  own  apartment, 
musing  and  reading,  or  in  wandering  along  the  banks  of  the 
Avon,  plucking  a  flower  here  and  there,  or  picking  up  small 
pebbles  on  the  shore  ;  talking  to  herself  the  while,  with  great 
earnestness.  The  usual  occupations  of  her  sex  she  never 
engaged  in  for  a  moment.  -  I  know  not  if  she  knew  the  use 
of  the  needle.  She  rarely  retired  to  rest  until  the  night  was 
far  spent,  and  seldom  rose  before  mid-day. 

As  may  be  supposed,  such  a  person  produced   upon  my 


16  SAINT  LEGER. 

mind  a  lasting  impression.  When  a  child,  she  was  a  mystery 
to  me  ;  and  as  I  became  older,  she  was  no  less  an  enigma. 
She  appeared  to  have  no  sympathies;  yet  she  seemed,  judg- 
ing from  her  acts,  to  be  attached  to  us  all.  If  I  deemed  my- 
self slighted  by  any  of  the  servants,  I  had  only  to  tell  Aunt 
Alice,  and  without  investigation  or  question,  the  offender  was 
subjected  to  the  severest  reproof.  If  I  was  ill,  I  found  my 
way  to  Aunt  Alice's  apartment,  and  received  every  attention 
which  it  was  in  her  power  to  bestow.  Nothing  asked  of  her 
was  refused,  and  she  never  tired  of  our  importunities.  Yet 
in  all  this,  no  feeling,  no  sympathy,  was  manifested ;  all  was 
cold — without  heart,  without  life.  Yet  she  was  roused  to 
anger  by  the  slightest  opposition.  Seldom  indeed  did  she 
meet  with  it,  but  when  she  did,  the  storm  and  whirlwind  were 
fit  emblems  of  her  wrath.  These  paroxysms  lasted  but  for  a 
brief  space :  and  in  the  exhibition  of  them  there  was  the 
same  want  of  feeling,  of  vital  passion,  as  in  her  calm  mo- 
ments. Passionless  ;  possessing  nothing  like  affection  in  her 
heart,  with  no  apparent  ties  on  earth ;  she  seemed  to  regard 
everything  around  her  like  shadows  on  the  wall :  they  came, 
they  went — but  they  were  shadows  still,  while  she  remained 
the  same.  Often  have  I  crept  close  to  her,  as  she  wandered 
out  on  some  of  her  long  walks,  and  listened  to  the  conversa- 
tion she  was  holding  with  herself.  This  was  sometimes  in  a 
foreign  language,  of  which  I  knew  nothing.  "When  she  spoke 
in  our  own  tongue,  her  subject  was  generally  of  things  long 
past,  of  which  I  could  understand  but  little.  I  could  perceive 
that  she  often  kept  up  an  imaginary  conversation  with  two, 
and  sometimes  three  persons,  with  great  volubility  ;  and  I 
could  in  consequence  very  rarely  make  out  a  connected  link 
of  what  was  said. 

Again  I  would  steal  unnoticed  into  her  room,  and  listen  as 
she  recited  strange  events  of  history,  which  made  my  young 


SAINT  LEGER.  17 

blood  run  cold,  and  my  heart  beat  so  violently  that  I  was 
glad  to  discover  myself,  and  ask  some  favor  at  her  hands.  At 
last  I  came  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  her  apartment ; 
and  Aunt  Alice  would  relate  to  me,  in  the  same  passionless 
style,  long-forgotten  stories  of  our  house ;  marked  passages 
of  history  relating  to  it ;  and  a  minute  and  almost  tedious 
narrative  of  historical  events,  relative  to  any  subject  I  chose 
to  start.  These  were  always  free  from  the  ordinary  gossip 
with  which  lovers  of  the  marvellous  are  apt  to  lard  their  sto- 
ries, and  therefore  produced  the  stronger  impression.  Of 
course  Aunt  Alice  was  familiar  with  the  prophecy  to  which 
I  have  alluded ;  but  she  only  spoke  of  it  as  an  historical  fact, 
and  by  no  persuasion  or  artifice  could  she  be  induced  to  give 
an  opinion  of  its  application ;  neither  would  she  listen  to  any 
from  another  person  ;  so  that  my  morbid  fears  found  no  re- 
lief from  her.  Treated  with  marked  respect  by  my  father 
and  all  the  family ;  allowed  to  have  her  will  in  everything  ; 
this  remarkable  woman  lived  among  us  like  a  spirit  from 
another  world.  She  came  and  went  unquestioned;  contin- 
ued year  after  year,  pursuing  the  same  round  of  strange  em- 
ployments ;  solitary  and  soulless  ;  having  apparently  no  sym- 
pathy with  her  sex,  no  feeling  with  her  kind. 


18  SAINT  LEGER. 


I  have  always  been  disposed  to  deny  that  our  early  days 
were  intended  to  be  our  bappiest.  True  it  is,  tbat  most  look 
back  to  them  with  pleasure,  mingled  with  feelings  half  of 
regret,  half  of  sadness,  that  they  are  passed.  Tbe  reason  of 
this  is,  that  those  days  are  free  from  the  anxieties  which  ma- 
ture life  is  sure  to  bring.  The  man,  pressed  down  with  busi- 
ness, loaded  with  care,  even  though  his  coffers  are  filling  with 
wealth,  looks  back  upon  his  childhood  as  a  green  spot  in  his 
existence,  while  all  around  is  drear  and  desolate. 

And  if  business  engross  him  not,  if  he  knows  nothing  of 
the  drudgery  of  acquiring  riches,  but  lives  for  his  own  pleas- 
ure and  amusement,  how  soon  these  pall  upon  him — then  he, 
also,  sighs  for  the  careless,  thoughtless,  happy  feelings  of  early 
days,  when  time  needed  no  destroyer,  and  the  hydra-headed 
monster  Ennui  found  no  place  of  attack. 

Is  it  a  wonder  that  such  as  I  have  mentioned,  the  slave  of 
pleasure  as  well  as  the  slave  of  toil,  should  look  away  across 
the  dreary  waste  of  years,  and  seek  to  recall  the  past  1  But 
it  is  too  late :  youth  will  not  come  back,  and  they  have  no 
talisman  to  compel  it  to  return  : 

"  Non  enim  gazae,  neque  consularis 
Summovet  Hetor  miseros  tumultus 
Mentis  ;  et  curas  laqueata  circuni 
Tecta  volentes." 

When  I  hear  friends  conversing  together  of  "  good  old 
times,"  closing  their  conference  with,  "Ah,  well !  those  were 
happy  days,  sure  enough ;  the  happiest  part  of  our  lives,  if 
we  had  but  known  it :"  I  feel  persuaded  that  they  have  made 


SAINT  LEGER.  19 

but  a  poor  use  of  existence.  What !  has  God  made  us  with 
such  rich  preparatives  for  true  enjoyment,  such  noble  powers 
of  mind  and  sense,  and  yet  designed  us  to  retrograde  through 
life  1  Yielding  us  a  few  hours  of  questionable  happiness  at 
first,  to  be  succeeded  by  days  of  weariness  or  wo  1  It  is 
not  so  !  Who  would  be  contented  always  with  such  happi- 
ness 1  Who  does  not  know  that  it  is  but  the  pleasure  of  an- 
imal existence ;  an  existence  gay  indeed  as  the  bird's,  and 
like  the  bird's  thoughtless  too  1 

The  man  who  wisely  employs  himself  about  things  imper- 
ishable, must  grow  happier  each  succeeding  day  in  time,  and 
so  on  through  the  period  beyond,  which  we  call  eternity. 
The  goodness  of  God  ordains  this  ;  the  wisdom  of  God  pro- 
claims it. 

My  own  childhood  was  peculiarly  thoughtful;  and  the 
thoughtful  child  must  of  necessity  be  unhappy.  Too  young 
to  understand  the  great  mystery  of  existence,  everything  in 
life  seems  strange  and  inexplicable.  A  heavy  burden  hangs 
at  the  heart  of  such,  and  I  felt  its  full  weight.  My  greatest 
relief  was  in  active  exercise ;  for  although  not  addicted  to 
the  ordinary  sports  which  children  love,  I  was  fond  of  ex- 
posure and  fatigue  ;  and  my  constitution  being  robust,  I  could 
indulge  in  these  without  danger.  Yet  I  was  solitary,  even  in 
my  associations.  In  hunting  I  took  peculiar  delight.  At  the 
early  age  of  ten,  I  was  the  owner  of  a  small  gun  and  shoot- 
ing apparatus;  but  I  never  took  pleasure  in  scouring  the 
country  after  a  pack  of  hounds,  in  company  with  a  score  of 
noisy  sportsmen,  pursuing  to  the  death  a  poor  fox  or  hare. 
There  was  no  excitement  to  me  in  leaping  ditches,  clearing 
hedges,  or  in  a  scamper  across  the  plain ;  but  I  loved  to  take 
my  gun,  and  without  even  the  assistance  of  a  favorite  pointer, 
make  my  way  to  the  great  forest  which  lay  across  the  Avon, 
before  the  sun  rose,  and  spend  the  whole  day  in  traversing  it. 


20  PAINT  LEGER. 

Not  that  I  was  eager  for  the  reward  of  the  sportsman.  Ma- 
ny a  time  has  the  woodcock  crossed  my  path  unscared,  and 
often  have  I  lowered  my  piev.  e,  raised  against  the  life  of  the 
timid  hare.  I  defy  you,  reader,  to  go  out  hetimes  into  the 
green-wood,  and  catch  the  inhabitants  just  waking  from  their 
slumbers,  and  commence  your  bloody  work,  without  some 
qualms  of  conscience  against  taking  life  so  early  in  the  day. 
The  night,  however,  generally  sent  me  home  with  a  well-filled 
bag. 

The  wild-cat  was  often  to  be  found  in  the  most  extensive 
forests.  This  animal  was  in  size  considerably  larger  than  the 
domestic  cat,  while  its  teeth  and  claws  were  tremendous. 
With  these  creatures  I  waged  a  war  of  extermination.  This 
was  not  carried  on  without,  risk,  certainly.  Yet  I  loved  the 
hazard,  and  felt  no  hardship  in  the  toil. 

But  after  all,  when  the  excitement  of  the  chase  was  over, 
tlwught  was  once  more  in  the  ascendant.  My  father  (erro- 
neously perhaps)  determined  to  give  his  children  a  private 
education,  affirming  that  public  schools  and  universities  were 
alike  destructive  to  mind,  manners,  and  morals.  So  at  home 
we  were  kept,  and  furnished  with  erudite  teachers,  who  knew 
everything  about  books  and  nothing  about  men. 

I  had  in  all  this  abundance  to  foster  the  unhappy  feeling 
which  burned  within.  Thought,  how  it  troubled  me  —  and  I 
had  so  much  to  think  about.  But  beyond  all,  the  great  won- 
der of  my  life  was,  "  What  life  was  made  for  V  I  wondered 
what  could  occupy  the  world.  I  read  over  the  large  vol- 
umes in  the  old  library,  and  wondered  why  men  should  bat- 
tle it  with  each  other  for  the  sake  of  power,  when  power 
lasted  but  so  short  a  time.  I  wondered  why  kings  who  could 
have  done  so  much  good  had  done  so  much  evil ;  and  I  won- 
dered why  anybody  was  very  unhappy,  since  death  should  so 
soon  relieve  from  all  earthly  ills.     Then  I  felt,  there  was  some 


SAINT  LEGER.  21 

unknown  power  busy  within  me,  which  demanded  a  field  for 
labor  and  development,  but  I  knew  not  what  spirit  it  was  of. 
I  wanted  to  see  the  world ;  to  busy  myself  in  its  business, 
and  try  if  I  could  discover  its  fashion,  for  it  was  to  me  a  vast 
mystery.  I  knew  it  was  filled  with  human  beings  like  unto 
myself,  but  what  were  they  doing,  and  wherefore  1  The 
what  and  the  why  troubled  me,  perplexed  me,  almost  crazed 
me.  When  I  came  to  learn  something  more  of  the  world  ; 
and  it  was  a  strangely  important  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  man ; 
the  world  seemed  like  a  mad  world,  and  its  inhabitants  re- 
solved on  self-destruction.  How  I  longed  to  break  the  shell 
which  encased  this  mystery.  I  felt  that  there  was  a  solution 
to  all  this  :  but  how  was  I  to  discover  it  1  Not  that  I  was 
kept  so  perfectly  secluded ;  I  had  often  accompanied  my  fa- 
ther to  London  ;  I  had  seen  much  of  the  outside  form  and 
fashion  of  the  world,  but  I  did  not  get  into  it.  I  had  so  edu- 
cated myself,  that  I  could  not.  The  pageant  passed  ever  be- 
fore my  eyes,  a  pageant  still.  I  had  no  friend  to  clear  up  my 
difficulties,  for  these  were  difficulties  I  never  mentioned. 
Firm  in  the  idea  that  some  fearful  destiny  hung  over  me,  and 
believing  that  it  was  connected  with  this  general  mistrust  of 
all  I  saw,  or  read,  or  heard  of,  I  kept  these  feelings  to  myself, 
and  thus  lived  two*  lives  at  the  same  time.  Had  I  but  told  my 
mother,  how  readily  might  I  have  been  relieved.  Had  my 
instructors  at  the  first  attempted  to  gain  my  confidence,  and 
sought  the  reason  of  the  premature  anxiety  which  brooded 
around  my  young  heart,  even  then  I  might  have  forgotten 
these  first  fearful  impressions  ;  but  it  was  now  too  late.  The 
habit  was  formed,  and  it  could  not  undergo  an  easy  change. 
Have  not  many  who  read  this  page  exclaimed,  at  one  time  o. 
another,  "  Would  that  I  could  rid  myself  of  my  early  im 
pressions  !  Would  that  I  could  overcome  this  fostered  pro. 
pensity  of  my  youth  !"      Too  late  !  too  late  !   I  warn  ye  ;  fo? 


22  SAINT  LEGER. 

impressions  are  never  effaced  from  the  young  mind  ;  a  rooted 
propensity  never  eradicated,  beyond  danger  of  evil.  Reform 
may  come,  it  is  true ;  reason  may  show  the  folly  and  the  sin- 
fulness of  yielding  to  fancied  images  of  ill ;  repentance  may 
bring  forgiveness  after  it ;  and  the  soul  be  happy  in  the  as- 
surance ;  but 

There  the  action  lies 

In  his  true  nature  :" 

and  though  repented  of,  and  forgiven,  there  it  must  lie  for  ever  ! 
Thus  I   continued,  until  my  sixteenth  year ;  when  an  inci- 
dent occurred  which  gave  a  new  direction  to  my  life. 

VI. 

Off  the  coast  of  Scotland,  but  far  out  into  the  Atlantic,  lie, 
as  all  well  know,  the  outer  range  of  the  Hebrides,  a  cluster 
of  rude  islands,  made  up  of  rough  rocks,  wild  mountains, 
deep  and  unsightly  valleys,  while  toward  the  ocean  their  rocky 
cliffs  assume  a  form  of  peculiar  grandeur.  Here  the  storm- 
king  holds  perpetual  revel.  Here  the  elements  continue, 
without  intermission,  their  incessant  strife.  The  deceitful 
eddy,  the  fearful  whirlpool,  the  perilous  strait,  are  here. 
Here  too  are  dark  caverns,  across  whose  entrance  the  waves 
beat  continually ;  while  the  tops  of  the  threatening  cliffs  are 
lost  in  gloomy  clouds,  and  against  their  bases,  roll  with  its 
restless  heaving,  the  everlasting  sea. 

These  islands,  although  so  near  to  England  and  Scot- 
land, have  retained  all  the  simple  and  homely  manners  of 
a  ruder  as:e.  It  is  probable  that  the  dangers  of  the  seas, 
and  the  horrors  of  the  tempests  which  prevail  there,  were 
sufficient  to  deter  any  from  venturing  thither,  unless  urged 
by  a  peculiar  necessity.  Barren  rocks  and  a  bleak  cli- 
mate presented  no  great  inducements  to  the  rapacity  of  the 
bucanier,  or  the  ambition  of  the  conqueror.  Yet  the  people 
were  by  no  means  left  undisturbed  in  their  unenviable  pos- 


.-ACT  LEGER.  23 

sessions.  Each  island  was  originally  governed  by  its  own 
chief!  But  it  is  related  that  Harold  Harfiger,  the  light-hair- 
ed, in  A.  D.  870,  pursued  thither  several  petty  princes,  whom  he 
had  driven  out  of  Norway,  and  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  . 
Hebrides,  whence  they  made  descents  upon  his  territories. 
His  attack  was  successful.  These  pirate-chiefs  were  put  to 
death,  and  all  their  followers  either  slaughtered  or  dispersed. 
On  regaining  their  ancient  seats,  Ketil,  the  flat-nosed,  was 
sent  by  Harold  with  a  large  fleet  to  subdue  them.  This  he 
easily  effected,  and  then  openly  declared  himself  independent, 
assuming  the  title  of  Prince  of  the  Hebrides.  The  islanders: 
continued,  under  Ketil,  to  be  little  else  than  rapacious  pirates. 

After  his  death,  the  kingdom  of  Man  was  formed  out  of 
them.  The  islands  then  became  tributary  to  Norway,  and 
were  governed  by  princes  sent  from  that  country.  They  af- 
terward shook  off  the  yoke ;  or  according  to  some,  were  ceded 
by  the  king  of  Norway  to  the  king  of  Scotland,  about  the  year 
1263.  Still  the  government  was  in  the  main  an  independent 
sovereignty ;  for  the  warlike  chiefs  who  ruled  there,  although 
nominally  under  the  Scottish  crown,  were  too  far  removed 
from  the  power  that  might  compel  obedience,  .to  regard  it 
with  much  awe. 

These  chiefs  were  descended  from  Somerled,  of  Argyle, 
the  ancestor  of  the  great  clan  vf  the  Macdonalds ;  and  so  in- 
dependently did  they  exercise  their  authority,  that  they  took 
upon  themselves  the  regal  title,  and  assumed  the  name,  of 
"  The  Lords  of  the  Isles." 

These  chieftains  continued  without  intermission,  and  with 
various  success,  to  make  furious  inroads  upon  the  main  land  ; 
where,  after  devastating  to  a  considerable  extent,  they  would 
be  driven  back  to  their  island-homes  :  there  they  would,  for 
want  of  other  occupation,  make  war  upon  each  other.  This 
troublesome  state  of  things  continued  into  the  present  cen- 
tury.    For  after  the  commotions  in  England  and   Scotland 


24  SAINT  LEGER. 

were  allayed,  the  heads  of  the  island-clans  (to  whom  had  been 
allowed  an  importance  which  they  did  not  deserve,  and  which 
only  served  to  foment  insurrection)  broke  out  in  rebellion. 
This  was  speedily  put  down.  The  act  of  1748  for  abolish- 
ing heritable  jurisdictions  was  passed,  which  destroyed  for  ever 
the  power  of  these  petty  tyrants. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  Hebrides  were,  at  the  time  I  speak  of 
them,  in  the  main  fishermen,  hardy  and  robust,  from  constant 
exposure  to  the  vicissitudes  of  ocean-life.  Sheep  and  black 
cattle  were  raised  in  some  of  the  islands  in  considerable 
quantities.  The  soil  was  owned  by  one  or  more  lairds,  to 
whom  the  occupant  paid  a  small  rent  from  its  productions. 
But  little  attention  was  paid  to  its  cultivation,  the  stirring  life 
of  the  fisherman  being  much  preferred  to  the  quiet  and  less 
exciting  occupation  of  agriculture.  No  country  or  region, 
of  all  that  I  had  heard  or  read,  made  such  an  impres- 
sion upon  my  imagination  as  the  stormy  Hebrides.  Not  from 
anything  peculiar  in  the  history  of  the  inhabitants  ;  not  from 
any  childish  fancy  or  association  by  which  they  were  impress- 
ed upon  my  mind ;  it  was  simply  their  natural  position ;  so 
near  to  all  that  was  beautiful  in  scenery,  yet  so  wild  and  rug- 
ged ;  so  near  to  the  great  commercial  marts  of  Christendom, 
yet  so  repulsive  in  their  aspect  that  no  adventurous  trader 
from  other  lands  ever  ventured  there. 

I  never  could  think  of  these  islands  as  inhabited,  but  de- 
lighted to  regard  them  in  gloomy  grandeur,  companions  of 
the  tempest  and  the  storm ;  a  spot  where  Nature  might  tri- 
umph over  the  arts,  and  schemes,  and  contrivances  of  man. 

I  ought,  however,  to  mention  that  Aunt  Alice  was  the  first 
who  led  me  to  think  of  them.  Whenever  she  indulged  in 
historical  details,  of  which  I  was  very  fond,  she  generally 
made  mention  of  the  Hebrides.  There  was  evidently  some 
secret  connected  therewith  which  she  did  not  wish  to  discover, 
and  I  never  presumed  to  inquire  about  it. 


SAINT  LEGER.  25 

My  mother  was  nearly  related  to  the  noble  family  of  the 
Venachoir,  in  Argyleshire.  Some  of  my  cousins  of  that  fam 
ily  had  passed  a  considerable  portion  of  the  sporting  season 
at  Bert  old  Castle,  and  we  were  all  invited  to  visit  Glencoe 
the  following  summer.  As  the  year  came  round,  the  invita- 
tion was  renewed.  My  brother  had  no  relish  for  the  visit,  as 
he  began  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  day.  In 
short,  he  was  becoming  a  thorough  man-of-fact ;  such  a  one 
as  society,  with  its  irresistible  and  enslaving  influence,  makes 
and  moulds.  He  was  full,  to  be  sure,  of  ambitious  hopes  and 
brilliant  expectations,  in  which  certainly  there  was  little  room 
for  disappointment  ;  but  these  hopes  and  expectations  were 
such  as  belong  to  the  man  who  trusts  all  to  this  world,  and  who 
seeks  and  receives  his  recompense  from  it.  Let  me  not  do 
injustice  to  my  brother.  He  was  to  me  the  same  kind  broth- 
er still.  He  was  whole-souled  and  generous ;  but  he  had 
committed  himself  to  a  certain  course.  The  chains  of  con- 
ventional form  and  habit  were  fast  fettering  his  spirit,  and  the 
natural  man  was  becoming  the  artificial  slave. 

A  ramble  in  the  Highlands,  though  attractive  enough  to  a 
youth  who  knew  nothing  about  law,  politics,  and  public 
speeches,  and  cared  less,  was  the  last  thing  my  brother  would 
think  of  undertaking.  It  would  break  off  his  plans  for  pres- 
ent action,  and  interfere  with  his  schemes.  In  brief,  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  brought  back  to  the  natural  and  the  romantic, 
having  put  on  the  armor  of  earthly  strife,  and  engaged 
in  that  restless  action  which  belongs  peculiarly  to  it.  He 
had  not,  be  it  understood,  become  hackneyed  in  the  contests 
of  the  arena ;  all  was  new,  exciting,  and  alluring.  His  brow 
was  unclouded ;  his  heart  beat  hopefully,  and  his  mind  was 
as  yet  free  from  the  selfish  considerations  which  after-life 
presents. 

To  me  the  invitation  opened  a  world  of  enjoyment.  I 
was  an   admirer  of  natural  scenery.     I    yearned  for   some 


26  SAINT  LEGER. 

change  that  should  serve  to  give  a  new  direction  to  my 
thoughts.  I  longed  to  mix  with  the  world,  not  as  an  actor  in 
its  scenes,  but  as  a  student  of  its  mysteries ;  to  divine  its  va- 
rious forms  and  phantasies,  if  indeed  I  might  discover  their 
meaning.  I  would  fain  oppose  myself  to  its  ever-shifting, 
endless  changes,  and  ask- how  and  why  they  occurred.  The 
time  had  arrived  when  the  Man  began  to  develop,  and  some 
sphere,  place,  opportunity,  was  absolutely  necessary  for 
natural  growth.  The  direction  had  been  already  given,  it 
was  of  the  dark  and  sombre  cast ;  yet  I  had  not  quite  for- 
gotten how  to  enjoy. 

I  was  sixteen.  Our  friends  in  Scotland  were  pressing  in 
their  invitation.  I  asked  and  obtained  permission  to  pay  the 
visit.  How  happy  the  thought  of  striking  out  into  life  made 
me  !  my  heart  seemed  fresh  again. 


SAINT  LEGER.  37 


VII. 

It  was  the  month  of  June.  I  had  finished  the  little 
preparations  necessary  for  my  tour,  which  I  had  deter- 
mined to  make  alone ;  not  even  accompanied  by  Thomas,  a 
faithful  servant,  who  had  from  my  childhood  been  devotedly 
attached  to  me,  and  who  was  always  my  companion  and  ready 
assistant  in  every  adventure  where  I  required  his  aid.  So 
alone  I  was  permitted  to  go.  I  farther  determined  to  take 
the  mail-coach  in  preference  to  a  more  secluded  though  im- 
posing means  of  conveyance.  My  mother  dismissed  me  with 
gentle  cautions  as  to  my  general  conduct  while  away,  entreat- 
ing me  to  be  careful  of  myself;  not  to  forget  my  daily  devo- 
tions, if  I  expected  the  protection  of  Providence,  and  to  be 
sure  to  let  her  hear  from  me  often. 

My  father  gave  me  letters  of  introduction  to  various  fami- 
lies of  distinction  in  the  different  towns  through  which  I  was  to 
pass,  and  a  well-filled  purse,  with  directions  how  I  might  re- 
plenish it  if  necessary.  Aunt  Alice  had  not  spoken  to  me  on 
the  subject  of  my  excursion;  but  on  the  morning  of  my  de- 
parture she  put  in  my  hands  a  small  parcel,  and  immediately 
turned  away.  I  had  not  then  time  to  examine  it ;  so  I  placed 
it  carefully  in  my  portmanteau,  intending  to  open  it  when 
more  at  leisure. 

The  "  Fly  Dragon"  royal  mail-coach  passed  through  War- 
wick about  ten  o'clock.  Proceeding  thither  in  our  own  car- 
riage, I  had  not  waited  many  minutes  before  it  made  its  ap- 
pearance. I  chose  an  outside,  and  secured  the  seat  of  honor 
next  to  the  "  whip."     Several  passengers  got  on  at  Warwick. 


28  SAINT  LEG  EH.. 

There  was  the  usual  show  of  idle,  Jo-nothing  fellows  around 
the  door,  increased  by  a  number  of  lazy  grooms  and  lacqueys, 
to  whom  the  arrival  and  departure  of  the  royal  mail  were  the 
principal  events  in  their  existence.  The  horses  were  pran- 
cing, impatient  of  delay.  By  each,  stood  a  groom  ready  to 
lift  the  blanket  that  covered  the  animal,  when  the  signal 
should  be  given.  "All  right?"  asked  the  coachman;  "All 
right!"  responded  the  guard;  "All  right!"  echoed  the 
groom ;  and  away  flew  the  horses,  leaving  the  four  at- 
tendants with  arms  outstretched,  each  having  retained  his 
blanket. 

What  glorious  excitement  filled  my  bosom,  as  we  coursed 
along !  The  balmy  breath  of  the  morning ;  the  sweet  fra- 
grance of  the  hedge  and  of  the  field ;  the  bracing  air,  added 
to  the  newness  of  my  situation,  made  me  feel  like  a  new  crea- 
ture. My  identity  was  almost  gone ;  hope,  and  the  various 
emotions  that  hope  gives  birth  to,  swelled  my  bosom ;  I  felt 
a  thousand  new  ideas  springing  up  within  me.  Just  then  I 
could  have  shouldered  the  universe,  so  strong  did  I  feel,  or 
"  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth  in  forty  minutes,"  I  felt 
so  fleet.     What  can  equal  the  energy  of  untried  youth  ! 

Among  the  passengers  that  took  the  stage-coach  at  War- 
wick was  a  young  man,  apparently  about  one- and- twenty 
years  of  age,  who  in  several  ways  attracted  my  notice.  He 
was  rather  tall  and  slender,  of  an  Italian  cast  of  features, 
with  long  dark  hair,  piercing  black  eyes,  and  beard  trimmed 
after  the  peculiar  style  of  the  Prussians.  There  was  nothing 
English  in  his  appearance.  Much  to  my  surprise,  however, 
he  spoke  the  language  without  the  slightest  accent,  and  seem- 
ed perfectly  familiar  with  the  ordinary  customs  of  the  coun- 
try, and  with  the  localities  we  passed.  He  conversed  with 
considerable  freedom  with  those  who  sat  by  him,  though  they 
were  evidently  acquaintances  of  the  road.  His  servant,  a  sin- 
ister-looking fellow,  of  foreign  appearance,  occupied  a  back 


SAINT  LEGER. 


20 


seat,  and  had  charge  of  divers  sporting  implements,  which 
betokened  a  relish  for  the  chase  in  the  master.  Yet  the  latter 
was  not  a  person  to  be  suspected  of  such  a  propensity,  or  of 
belonging  to  such  gentle  craft.  In  spite  of  myself,  I  felt  an 
instinctive  antipathy  to  the  stranger  ;  and  the  more  I  tried  to 
dispel  it,  the  stronger  it  became.  He  had  apparently  been 
long  abroad,  and  from  the  suspicious  glances  cast  ever  and 
anon  around  him,  was  evidently  accustomed  to  scenes  of 
clanger,  perhaps  violence.  Still  there  was  nothing  of  the 
frank,  open  bearing  of  the  soldier  in  his  manner,  but 
rather  the  wily  caution  of  the  intriguer ;  and  I  wondered 
the  more  that  one  so  young  should  bear  such  marks  upon 
his  brow. 

At  one  of  the  stopping-places,  the  stranger  alighted,  and 
on  regaining  his  seat,  his  body  came  almost  in  contact  with 
mine  ;  and  as  he  bent  over  to  pass  me,  my  eyes  glanced  in- 
voluntarily into  his  bosom,  where  I  beheld  a  stout  leathern 
belt,  in  which  were  thrust  a  dagger  and  a  brace  of  pistols,  so 
disposed  as  ordinarily  to  be  concealed  from  view  by  the  vest 
and  the  light  mantle  worn  over  it.  At  that  moment  the 
stranger's  gaze  met  mine  ;  as  if  aware  of  the  discovery  I  had 
made,  he  gave  a  scornful  smile  and  took  his  place.  Half 
ashamed  at  seeing  what  I  certainly  could  not  help  observing, 
and  piqued  at  I  he  assumption  of  the  stranger,  whom  I  had 
by  this  time  put  down  for  one  no  better  than  he  should  be,  I 
settled  into  a  moody  silence,  considerably  unlike  the  buoyant 
feelings  which  signalized  our  starting. 

I  did  not  long  maintain  this  feeling,  but  entered  into  con- 
versation with  Walter,  the  "whip,"  a  veteran  roadster,  now 
some  fifty  years  old,  whom  I  had  known  since  my  childhood. 
He  had  for  many  years  been  in  the  service  of  a  family  who 
were  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  us,  and  had  afterward  left 
them  for  the  more  lucrative  employment  of  the  road.  Of 
course  I  recognised  him  at  once  on  mounting. 


30  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  The  young  Master  Saint  Leger  travels  alone,  I  see,"  said 
Walter,  in  an  inquiring  tone  ;  "  nothing  amiss,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  I    replied ;  "  I   am  just  going  to  shake  hands 

with  the  world',  and  prefer  an  incog,  to  a  formal  introduction." 

"And  that 's  the  way  to  make  the  most  of  the  acquaintance, 

if  you  are  wise,  and  the  shortest  route  to  send  you  to  the 

devil  if  you  are  foolish,"  answered  Walter,  confidently. 

Remembering  that  my  old  acquaintance  was  somewhat  of 
a  moralist,  I  felt  like  giving  him  his  bent,  and  asked  :  "  How 
is  that,  Walter?" 

"  Why,"  replied  he,  "  if  the  young  Saint  Leger  should 
drive  into  the  world  with  a  load  of  introductions  to  all  the 
high-born  and  honorable,  the  rich  and  the  noble,  he  might  be 
courted,  and  flattered,  and  fooled,  till  he  would  become  as 
great  a  fool  as  any.  But  if  he  would  know  where  he  stands, 
and  the  road  he  travels,  let  him  take  his  first  start  without  any 
help,  just  as  you  are  going  to  do,  I  hope,  and  then  he  will 
find  out  what  he  is  good  for,  and  what  his  friends  are  good 
for ;  but,  young  man,  if  this  is  done  merely  to  throw  off  the 
restraint  of  the  governor's  presence,  and  the  proper  curb  of 
experience  and  good  advice,  why  then,  as  I  said  before,  you 
will  soon  be  posting  to  the  devil,  and  all  the  governors 
and  friends  in  the  world  can't  hold  you  up." 

I  was  struck  with  the  homely  soundness  of  Walter's  speech, 
and  told  him  that  I  fully  agreed  with  him ;  but  that  the  pres- 
ent excursion  was  to  be  a  short  one,  and  that  nearly  all 
my  lime  would  be  passed  with  my  relatives. 

"  So  much  the  more  need,  then,  of  making  the  most 
of  what  time  you  have ;  we  shall  be  at  Oxford  present- 
ly, and  there  '  The  coachman  leaves  you,  sir,'  "  said  Wal- 
ter, touching  his  hat,  and  mimicking  the  tone  used  when  the 
ctistomary  shilling  is  expected.  "  Now  take  my  advice ; 
stay  a  day  there  instead  of  hurrying  on  to  Loadon.  Old 
Nancy,  the  housekeeper — I  suppose  she  is  alive  yet — will 


SAINT  LEGER. 


81 


only  look  a  day  longer  for  you,  and  that  will  harm  nohody. 
You  have  been  in  Oxford  a  hundred  times,  no  doubt.  You 
have  seen  all  the  fine  buildings  and  the  grand  colleges 
and  halls  ;  so  you  need  waste  no  time  about  them ;  just  stop 
at  the  '  Hen  and  Chickens'  instead  of  going  to  the  'Angel,' 
where  you  will  be  recognised,  and  served  accordingly.  But 
at  Modier  Christy's  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  sit  still  and  see 
the  world.     Depend  upon  it,  'tis  the  only  way." 

Walter's  advice  to  me  was  most  opportune,  for  I  wat  just 
in  the  mood  to  receive  it ;  not  from  any  wish  to  escape  proper 
restraint,  but  I  longed  to  break  over,  for  a  time  at  least, 
the  bounds  which  my  birth  and  the  rules  of  society  im- 
posed, that  I  might  say  to  my  fellow :  "  Man,  we  meet  in 
common  together.  God  made  us  both.  "What  say  you? 
what  are  your  thoughts,  your  impulses,  your  sympathies  V 

I  assented  at  once  to  Walter's  proposal. 

Just  then  we  slopped  to  change  horses,  and  most  of  the 
passengers  alighted.  I  was  somewhat  tardy  in  getting 
up,  and  on  mounting  found,  greatly  to  my  surprise,  that 
the  foreign-looking  stranger  had  taken  my  seat,  and  was 
coolly  looking  the  other  way,  as  I  thought,  purposely  to  avoid 
me.  In  a  very  civil  though  determined  tone,  I  suggested  to 
him  that  he  had  my  place.  He  pointed  with  a  careless  air 
over  his  shoulder,  and  remarked  that  there  were  plenty  of 
seats  above.  His  contemptuous  manner  set  me  completely 
on  fire.  The  blood  boiled  in  my  veins,  I  was  so  angry ;  and 
taking  a  step  toward  the  stranger,  I  exclaimed,  "  You  may 
take  your  choice,  either  to  vacate  my  seat  instantly,  or  be 
pitcued  off  the  box." 

What  might  have  been  the  end  of  the  controversy  I  can 
not  tell ;  for  Walter  promptly  interfered,  saying : 

"  Patience  !  patience  !  Master  Saint  Leger.  The  young 
man  is  foreign-bred,  and  does  n't  understand  the  custom  of 
the  English  road.     So   T  must  tell  you,  sir,  that  seats  on  a 


32  SAINT  LEGER. 

stage-coach  are  like  beds  at  an  inn ;  and  as  you  make  your 
bed,  so  you  must  lie  in  it,  you  know." 

"A  plague  on  your  roads,  your  customs,  and  your  imper- 
tinence !"  said  the  stranger,  addressing  "Walter,  but  resuming 
his  old  seat  at  the  same  time  ;  "  for  the  present  I  bear  with 
all  three.  As  for  my  young  master  there,  I  have  no  desire 
to  quarrel  with  him  unless  he  forces  me  to  it.  His  fangs  are 
not  grown  yet,  and  I  dislike  to  have  too  great  an  advantage." 

"  With  all  submission,"  retorted  Walter,  "  I  would  advise 
you  to  seek  no  matter  for  quarrel  with  a  Saint  Leger,  for 
though  the  cub  may  not  know  his  own  nature  till  he  is  roused, 
you  will  find  enough  of  the  tiger  there  before  you  have  fin- 
ished. These  are  peaceful  times,  letting  alone  the  cursed 
Frenchers  across  the  water.  We  have  done  with  feuds,  and 
quarrels,  and  bloodshed,  since  the  time  I  was  a  baby,  I  may 
say ;  but  I  will  uphold,  till  I  see  the  difference,  that  a  Saint 
Leger  is  a  Saint  Leger  so  long  as  a  drop  of  old  Bertold's 
blood  remains,  which  they  say  is  having  its  last  run,  but  of 
that  I  don't  pretend  to  know." 

During  this  harangue,  the  stranger's  countenance  had  set- 
tled into  its  usual  contemptuous  expression  which  seemed  for 
a  moment  excited  at  the  mention  of  my  name,  for  he  mutter- 
ed, half  to  himself,  without  appearing  farther  to  notice  the 
coachman  :  "  Saint  Leger  !  strange  enough  too  ;  we  shall  see." 
In  the  meantime,  I  maintained  a  determined  silence,  quite 
ashamed  at  the  violence  of  my  passion,  and  fully  resolved  not 
to  embroil  myself  in  a  disreputable  controversy  with  an  un- 
known adventurer.  My  thoughts,  in  the  meanwhile,  were 
none  of  the  most  pleasant.  All  my  wise  philosophy  had  van- 
ished. Where,  I  asked  myself,  were  the  strong  yearnings  to 
make  acquaintance  with  humanity  1  where  the  desire  to  meet 
my  kind  on  common  ground ;  to  knew  men ;  to  know  my- 
self? A  moment  of  foolish  excitement  had  dispersed  all; 
aud  I  felt  that  I  was  but  a  child.     Alter  a  time,  however,  my 


Saint  legkr.  33 

natural  equanimity  began  to  return.  I  reflected  that  I  had  to 
school  myself  if  I  expected  to  pass  profitably  through  life, 
and  that  every  incident  must  serve  to  teach  me  something. 

The  stage-coach  rolled  rapidly  on.  We  had  passed  the  old 
town  of  Woodstock,  and  the  splendid  palace  and  park  of 
Blenheim,  and  were  in  sight  of  Oxford.  The  country  in  the 
vicinity  is  enchanting.  The  day  was  fine ;  the  season  the 
loveliest  in  all  the  year ;  and  as  we  approached  this  famous 
seat  of  learning,  the  sun,  which  had  enriched  the  landscape 
with  its  declining  rays,  sunk  gently  out  of  sight,  leaving  be- 
hind a  canopy  of  gorgeous  clouds,  which  were  full  of  change- 
ful beauty,  as  each  succeeding  hue  threw  a  new  aspect  over 
the  scene. 

How  my  young  heart  enjoyed  what  was  before  me  !  How 
like  a  very  paradise  it  seemed  !  I  lost  for  the  moment  the 
thought  of  everything  earthly ;  of  everything  unpleasant, 
and  gave  myself  up  to  this  new  influence.  My  revery  was 
broken  by  Walter,  who  exclaimed  :  "  I  have  been  waiting 
for  you  to  speak  first,  but  I  see  Master  Saint  Leger  is  not 
disposed  to  make  free  with  his  tongue.  So  I  will  just  say, 
that  I  suppose  I  was  fairly  enough  to  blame  for  not  sending 
that  jackanapes  to  the  seat  which  belonged  to  him,  when  he 
had  the  impudence  to  take  yours.  But  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  wanted  to  see  your  mettle,  my  boy,  and  by  St.  George  and 
the  Dragon  !  I  came  near  rousing  more  than  we  could  have 
carried.  I  do  believe  you  would  have  thrown  him  under  the 
wheel  if  I  had  not  stood  between  ;  and  what  a  scandal  that 
would  have  been  to  his  majesty's  royal  mail !  You  saw, 
though,  I  gave  him  a  settler.  But  it  did  do  me  good  to  see 
your  blood  up  ;  not  that  I  counsel  brawls  and  swaggering 
and  all  that ;  no,  no  ;  Walter  Roland  is  a  peaceful  man  ;  but 
it  requires  a  man  of  spirit  to  be  a  man  of  peace  and  no 
coward." 

"  I  feel  ashamed  of  such  a  sudden  show  of  passion,"  repli- 
3 


34  SAINT  LEGER. 

ed  I,  "  and  I  candidly  acknowledge  it ;  for  that  stranger, 
whom  I  can  not  help  disliking,  might  not  have  been  aware  of 
the  affront  put  upon  me." 

"He  not  aware  of  it!"  exclaimed  Walter,  with  a  grin. 
"Hush!"  said  he,  speaking  in  a  lower  tone,  for  fear  of  be- 
ing overheard,  and  making  what  was  intei.led  to  be  a  very 
significant  gesture  from  one  side  of  his  face  ;  "  I  have  seen 
him  before,  or  my  circumspection  goes  for  nothing." 

"  Seen  him  before  1  why  what  do  you  mean1?"  inquired  I. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Walter,  "  except  that  you  will  prob- 
ably see  him  again,  and  that  he  knows  as  much  of  the  rules 
of  the  road  as  either  of  us  :  not  a  word  more,  for  he  is 
watching  us.  You  will  part  company  at  Oxford,  and  here 
we  are  already  ;  just  over  the  bridge,  then  two  squares,  and 
we  are  safe  at  the  Hen  and  Chickens." 

There  was  the  usual  blast  of  the  guard,  the  usual  bustle  of 
attendants  at  the  inn,  the  usual  questions  and  the  usual  answers. 
The  "Fly  Dragon"  threw  off  her  passengers,  and  forthwith 
rolled  away  to  her  resting-place. 

I  remained  quietly  at  the  Hen  and  Chickens,  a  respecta- 
ble inn,  frequented  by  the  regular  "traveller,"  men  of  count- 
ing-house importance  and  the  like,  but  of  a  stamp  entirely 
different  from  the  Cross,  the  Star,  and  the  Angel,  which 
were  in  high  repute. 

I  had  at  least  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  I  was  not 
known.  I  observed  that  the  stranger  seemed  astonished  when 
I  ordered  the  porter  to  take  in  my  luggage,  but  nothing  was 
said,  and  I  was  heartily  glad  to  be  rid  of  his  presence.  At 
the  door  a  pretty,  rosy-cheeked  chambermaid  asked  if  the 
young  gentleman  would  be  shown  to  his  room.  I  assented ; 
and  after  shaking  off  the  dust  with  which  the  ride  had  en- 
cumbered me,  I  proceeded  to  the  traveller' s-room  and  order- 
ed refreshments.  I  had  ample  chance  to  look  around  me. 
Here  were  seated  several   mercan  le  men,  some  enea^ed  in 


SAINT  LEGER.  35 

conversation,  others  over  their  port,  or  reading  their  newspa- 
pers. Two  or  three  mawkish-looking  young  fellows  were  talk- 
ing largely  about  the  Newton  races,  which  had  just  come  off; 
and  a  small  knot  of  town's  people  were  discussing  in  a  corner 
divers  subjects  over  sundry  flagons  of  ale.  T  took  a  seat  near 
the  window,  to  command  a  view  rof  the  passers-by.  The 
twilight  continued  far  into  the  evening,  and  tempted  out  the 
most  recluse  ;  now  a  student  from  one  of  the  colleges  would 
pass  with  cap  and  gown  ;  next  came  tripping  by  some  trades- 
man's daughter,  dressed  for  an  evening  out ;  then  the  sturdy 
laborer,  covered  with  dust  and  sweat,  going  home  after  his 
day's  toil  to  meet  his  wife  and  children,  and  be  refreshed; 
some  servant  girls,  in  their  Sunday's  best,  were  talking  and 
laughing  very  loud,  as  they  sauntered  along  the  pavement, 
watched  by  three  or  four  young  men,  who  might  have  been 
students,  though  they  had  doffed  the  garb  of  the  college ;  car- 
riages rolled  along  the  street ;  the  hackman  was  soliciting  a 
fare  ;  and  the  beggar  was  whining  out  the  customary  petition  ; 
while  occasionally  the  rigid,  unearthly  sound  of  a  passing  Is- 
raelite would  startle  me  with  its  never-ending,  "  Clothes  !  old 
clothes !"  The  very  town  was  agog  that  evening.  Pres- 
ently a  Frenchman  made  his  appearance  with  two  little  dogs 
which  he  had  taught  to  stand,  the  one  upon  the  shoulders  of 
the  other  '(each  upon  his  hind  legs),  while  the  by-standers,  by 
offering  inviting  morsels,  first  to  one  and  then  to  the  other, 
endeavored  to  disturb  their  equilibrium.  The  poor  an- 
imals, although  evidently  very  hungry,  maintained  their  posi- 
tion, casting  ever  and  anon  longing  looks  toward  the  tempt- 
ing bribe,  and  then  despairingly  toward  their  master,  who 
only  scowled  at  them,  shook  his  head,  and  muttered,  "  De 
(hue!" 

After  the  performance  was  over,  requisition  was  made 
for  pennies  ind  sixpences,  according  to  the  liberality  of 
the    donors.     The    old    man    could    speak    no    English    be- 


36  .  SAINT  LEGER. 

yond  the  "  var'  good,"'  "tank-ee,"  which  he  used  most  gen- 
erously, whether  his  suit  was  favored  or  rejected.  As  he  ap- 
proached me,  cap  in  hand,  leading  his  little  dogs,  I  thought 
I  could  discover  traces  of  deep  feeling  under  the  air  of 
mendicant  entreaty  which  he  assumed.  A  strong  sense 
of  pity  came  over  me ;  and  as  lie  passed,  I  dropped  into  his 
cap  a  half-crown  piece  :  "  Dix  in  ill e  graces  —  ah,  mon  Dieu  /" 
exclaimed  the  poor  fellow  ;  and  then,  as  if  remembering  him- 
self, repeated  with  great  energy,  three  or  four  times,  "  Var' 
good;  tank-ee,  tank-ee  !" 

As  the  old  man  turned  away,  after  receiving  the  contribu- 
tions, I  walked  up  and  addressed  him  in  his  own  tongue.  Had 
I  cast  a  handful  of  guineas  into  his  cap,  it  would  not  have 
had  half  the  effect  that  was  caused  by  a  few  familiar  words 
in  his  native  language  falling  upon  the  poor  creature's  ear. 
He  stopped,  clasped  his  hands  together,  lifted  his  eyes  to  heav- 
en, and  poured  out  a  torrent  of  exclamations,  blessings,  and 
thanks,  as  if  it  were  by  some  direct  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence that  I  had  crossed  his  path.  After  this  Avas  over, 
Pierre,  for  that  was  the  old  man's  name,  informed  me  that  he 

was  valet  to  the  Marquis  de ,  a  distinguished  nobleman 

of  France ;  that  his  master,  having  fallen  under  the  displeas- 
ure of  the  government,  was  obliged  to  fly  his  country,  with 
his  wife  and  only  child,  a  beautiful  girl,  seventeen  years  of 
age  ;  that,  by  the  assistance  of  humble  friends,  they  had  found 
their  way  to  the  seaboard,  and  thence  on  board  an  English 
vessel,  bound  for  London,  where  they  landed  about  two 
months  previous  ;  that  the  marquis  was  too  proud  to  make 
any  application  to  his  English  friends  for  relief;  that  madame 
was  in  delicate  health,  and  that  the  whole  charge  devolved 
upon  Mademoiselle  Emilie,  who  took  care  of  her  mother, 
sang  and  played  for  her  father,  and  wrought  at  embroidery 
every  leisure  moment,  from  the  proceeds  of  which  a  consid- 
erable sum  was  weeklv  realized,     Pierre,  in  the  meanwhile, 


saint  legkh. 


37 


fulfilled  his  usual  duties  as  valet  to  the  marquis,  to  which 
were  added  those  of  steward  and  cook. 

Beside  this,  whenever  an  opportunity  allowed,  and  as 
Pierre  confessed,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  family,  he 
stole  away  with  his  two  little  dogs,  which  had  been  trained  to 
innumerable  grotesque  feats  to  please  his  young  mistress  in 
happier  days,  and  exhibited  them  in  the  manner  T  have  de- 
scribed. The  additional  sum  derived  in  this  way  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  support  the  household,  although  they  oc- 
cupied a  miserable  little  hut  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town. 

I  was  deeply  affected  with  Pierre's  narrative,  which  was 
detailed  with  great  effect,  in  a  most  forcible  manner,  but  re- 
sisted his  earnest  entreaties  to  accompany  him  home,  believ- 
ing that  the  natural  pride  of  the  marquis  would  overcome 
any  other  feeling  he  might  have  in  seeing  a  stranger,  no  mat- 
ter under  what  circumstances.  So,  pressing  a  guinea  upon 
poor  Pierre,  who  went  into  another  fit  of  ecstasy  on  the  occa- 
sion, I  bade  him  adieu. 

Here  was  a  new  train  given  to  my  thoughts,  and  for  the ' 
first  time  in  my  life,  sentiment  came  into  play.  As  I  walked 
slowly  toward  the  inn,  I  revolved  Pierre's  story  over  and 
over ;  every  word  that  he  told  me  of  the  unfortunate  family 
was  full  in  my  mind.  But  the  thought  of  the  young  girl,  so 
dev6ted,  so  cheerful,  so  persevering  in  her  efforts  to  provide 
for  her  parents,  in  this  their  hour  of  adversity  and  distress, 
was  uppermost  in  my  thoughts.  How  I  regretted  that  I  had 
not  accepted  the  mutation  of  the  valet,  and  thus  obtaiued  an 
interview.  I  will  see  her  yet,  I  exclaimed  ;  I  will  show  her 
that  an  Englishman  can  sympathize  with  her,  and  she  will 
understand  my  feelings.  I  had  wrought  myself  up  into  a  fe- 
ver-heat of  enthusiasm  by  the  time  I  reached  the  inn.  Around 
the  door  were  collected  another  group,  intent  upon  the  mum- 
meries of  an  old  gipsy,  who,  bent  nearly  double  with  age  and 
pretended  infirmities,   was  soliciting  fortunes    from  the  by- 


38  SAINT  LEGER. 

standers.  The  old  creature  was  apparently  well  known,  and 
consequently,  although  there  were  numbers  ready  to  listen  to 
her  predictions,  few  cared  to  be  the  subject  of  them.  As  I 
came  up,  the  hag  cast  her  black  eyes  upon  me,  which  were 
still  bright  and  piercing,  and  exclaimed,  "  Here  is  a  fine 
youth,  that  I  warrant  me  never  has  had  his  hand  crossed  by 
old  Elspeth.  Try  a  sixpence,  now,  and  see  if  you  do  n't  have 
a  fortune  with  it."  I  do  not  know  what  devil  prompted  me 
to  assent  to  this  appeal.  I  knew  the  gipsy  habit  well,  and 
had  a  thorough  contempt  for  the  jugglery ;  but  the  crowd 
gave  way,  and  the  old  crone  hobbled  up  to  me  ;  almost  with- 
out my  knowing  it,  she  had  my  hand.  First,  she  crossed  it 
with  a  "silver  sixpence" — of  course  of  my  bestowing.  "A 
strange  hand  !"  muttered  she ;  "  I  must  cross  it  again  with 
a  silver  shilling;  it  must  needs  be,  young  master,"  she 
continued  earnestly.  I  was  prepared  for  this,  and  as  I  had 
commenced  I  determined  to  go  on ;  so  the  silver  shilling  was 
produced.  Another  cross  followed,  and  again  old  Elspeth 
was  in  a  quandary.  "  Indeed,  I  can  say  naught,"  she  mut- 
tered ;  "  my  tongue  is  strangely  tied.  God  wot  what  it  means ; 
but  if  I  had  a  half-crown  piece  to  get  the  right  angle  with, 
you  would  hear  something  worth  knowing."  By  this  time 
the  attention  of  the  crowd  was  attracted,  for  the  fortune- 
teller's demand  was  exorbitant,  even  for  a  gipsy.  Determined 
to  end  the  scene,  which  was  becoming  anything  but  agreea- 
ble to  me,  I  put  a  half-crown  in  her  hand,  and  said,  "  Take 
what  you  will,  only  have  done  with  this  foolery."  The  old 
creature  took  the  money,  without  paying  any  notice  to  my 
remark,  crossed  my  palm  with  it  carefully  several  times,  till 
she  seemed  to  have  struck  upon  the  right  line,  then  stopped, 
drew  herself  up  till  her  form  was  erect,  and  looking  me  full 
in  the  face  with  her  keen  sharp  eyes,  she  uttered  slowly : 


SAINT  LEGER.  39 

"  When  ye  Saint  Leger  shal  marrie  a  virgyn  fair, 
Shal  build  a  new  castel  both  wondrous  and  rare, 
Lett  him  warnynge  tak,  for  ye  last  of  his  race 
Shal  hee  meet  in  yl  castel,  face  to  face." 

Had  every  possible  calamity  of  earth  been  at  that  moment 
announced  as  about  to  happen  to  me,  I  could  not  have  been 
more  completely  overwhelmed. 

All  the  gloom  of  my  life-time  gathered  around  my  heart ; 
nothing  could  exceed  the  blackness  of  darkness  that  succeed- 
ed. But  pride,  that  pride  which  afterward  supported  me  un- 
der so  many  emergencies,  came  to  my  relief.  I  forcibly  with- 
drew my  hand  from  the  hag,  and  turned  quickly  away,  ex- 
claiming as  I  left  her,  "  Pshaw  !  I  have  heard  that  doggrel  a 
thousand  times  before ;  if  this  is  all  you  have  got  to  say,  it  is 
hardly,  as  you  promised,  worth  the  knowing." — "  If  you  have 
heard  it  before,  heed  it  now  !  heed  it  now  !"  quoth  the  crone. 
"Ah  !  ah !"  continued  she,  "  give  but  one  golden  guinea,  and  old 
Elspeth  will  reveal  wonderful  things — fearful  things  —  and 
perhaps  a  way  to  get  by  the  doom."  I  had  by  this  time 
reached  the  door-way ;  without  noticing  this  last  appeal,  I 
turned  neither  to  'he  right  nor  left,  but  sprang  to  my  cham- 
ber, locked  and  bolted  the  door,  and  threw  myself  upon  the 
bed,  in  a  state  of  frenzy  and  despair. 


VIII. 

In  this  situation  I  slumbered  long  and  heavily ;  yet,  in  my 
slumber,  I  was  conscious  of  a  great  weight,  which  hung  like 
an  appalling  calamity  over  me,  just  ready  to  fall.  Sleep  is 
wonderful ;  but  at  times  it  comes  so  strangely  over  the  sen- 
ses, locking  up  some,  unlocking  others,  and  giving  to  them 
such  unusual  vigor  and  acuteness,  that  we  are  perplexed  and 
baffled  in  forming  any  rules  for  this  universal  but  mysterious 


40  SAINT  LEGER. 

phenomenon.  I  can  even  now  distinctly  remember  the  mis- 
erable, unhappy  slumber  of  that  night.  The  appearance  of 
the  room ;  the  bed  and  curtains ;  the  window  overlooking  a 
garden ;  the  very  chairs  and  table,  stand  directly  before  me, 
just  as  they  appeared  when  I  opened  my  eyes  the  morning 
after  the  incidents  I  have  narrated,  and  saw  the  sun  stream- 
ing in  through  the  casement,  which  had  not  been  closed  dur- 
ing the  night.  The  sight  of  everything  made  me  heart-sick 
—  home-sick.  Every  article  in  the  room  which  looked  cheer- 
ful and  inviting  the  day  before,  now  appeared  sad  and  som- 
bre. I  started  from  the  bed  and  threw  up  the  window.  The 
air  of  heaven  was  no  longer  fresh,  but  sultry  and  oppressive. 
I  glanced  into  the  little  garden.  The  shrubs  and  plants  and 
flowers  looked  lonely,  and  I  pitied  them.  I  next  unlocked 
the  door  of  my  chamber  and  went  down  to  the  public  room. 
It  was  early ;  too  early  for  the  appearance  of  any  but  the 
servants  of  the  house,  who  stared  at  me  as  if  I  had  made  a 
•mistake.  I  went  to  the  street-door  and  looked  out  upon  the 
scene  of  the  last  night's  occurrences.  There  was  the  spot 
where  stood  the  old  Frenchman  and  his  dogs;  and  here, 
close  by  the  door,  that  accursed  gipsy  had  gone  through  with 
her  mummeries.  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  was  now 
there.  All  was  quiet,  save  the  occasional  jolting  of  heavy 
market-wagons,  or  the  monotonous  call  of  the  milkman. 

I  could  endure  this  no  longer:  "What,  oh,  what  will  be- 
come of  me!"  I  exclaimed  aloud.  The  sound  of  my  own 
voice  had  a  salutary  impression.  I  reflected  a  moment ;  I 
thought  of  my  mother  and  her  kind  counsel.  I  returned  to 
my  room,  took  my  Bible  from  my  portmanteau  (for  my  de- 
votions were  neglected  the  previous  evening),  and  sat  down, 
determined  to  be  calm.  Uttering  a  short  prayer  to  my 
Maker,  I  opened  the  Holy  Book.  I  turned  unconsciously  to 
the  Epistles,  and  commenced  reading  the  fifth  chapter  of  the 


SAINT  LEGER.  41 

First  Epistle  General  of  John.  I  read  on  to  the  sixteenth 
verse,  which  is  as  follows : 

"If  any  man  see  his  brother  sin  a  sin  which  is  not  unto 
death,  he  shall  ask,  and  he  shall  give  him  life  for  them  that 
sin  not  unto  death.  There  is  a  sin  unto  death ;  I  do  not  say 
that  he  shall  pray  for  it." 

On  reading  this  verse  a  tremor  seized  me.  Sweat  in  large 
drops  stood  on  my  forehead;  my  limbs  trembled,  and  I  was 
so  utterly  unnerved  that  I  dropped  the  book,  and  sank  back 
into  my  seat.  Here  then  was  the  solution  of  the  whole  mys- 
tery. Here  was  an  explanation  of  all  that  seemed  strange 
before.  I  was  indeed  the  doomed  of  Heaven,  and  there  my 
condemnation  stood  recorded.  Could  I  gainsay  it?  Could 
any  one  gainsay  it?  The  awful  words  were  written,  and 
stood  forth  in  letters  of  fire.  I  took  up  the  Bible  again,  but 
dared  not  open  it  for  fear  that  place  should  meet  my  eye. 
How  I  longed  to  read  it  over  once  more,  and  see  if  I  had 
read  aright!  Presently  a  new  idea  struck  me:  perhaps 
the  English  version  was  incorrect,  or  bore  too  harsh  a  con- 
struction, or  was  open  to  explanation.  I  hastily  drew  from 
my  pocket  a  small  Greek  Testament,  which  I  usually  car- 
ried, turned  eagerly  to  the  verse,  and  read  the  latter  clause : 

i(TTiv  a^apTia  irpds  Qavarov  ov  Trepi  CKeivtii 
Xsyai  Xva  ipttiTi)rrr]. 

Hope,  which  had  been  kept  alive  for  the  time,  was  com- 
pletely lost,  as  I  examined  critically  the  words  of  the  original 
Greek.  There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  their  literal  sig- 
nification. Indeed  there  was  nothing  on  which  to  raise  a 
question.  To  be  sure,  I  half  started  a  doubt  about  the  reading 
of  }qmtij;i]  •  but  I  was  familiar  with  the  language,  and  knew 
that  f  owtkoj  answered  to  the  Latin  interrogo,  oro,  and  the  ren- 
dering of  that  was  unimportant  to  me  so  long  as  the  first  part 
stood  so  clear: 


42  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  There  is  a  sin  unto  death  /" 

I  groaned  aloud.  I  was  alone,  and  dared  not  even  ask  my 
God  to  have  mercy  on  me. 

I  am  aware  that  this  narrative  may  appear  insignificant  to 
the  reader,  but  to  me  it  is  invested  with  an  importance  com- 
mensurate with  what  I  suffered.  I  know  too  that  many  will 
exclaim:  "What  folly;"  "victim  of  his  own  imagination;" 
"nervous  excitement;"  "monomania,"  and  the  like;  but  if  I 
can  not  reply  satisfactorily  to  such,  I  will  hope  that  there  are 
others  who  understand  that  imaginary  evils  are  the  worst 
that  can  fall  upon  man;  that  nervous  excitement  is  more  to 
be  dreaded  than  any  other;  and  that  the  narration  of  what 
has  actually  happened  may  prove  of  some  benefit  to  others 
who  may  run  the  risk  of  like  suffering.  Be  it  understood 
also,  that  my  misery  was  such  as  no  person,  though  posses- 
sing never  so  great  strength  of  mind,  but  trained  as  I  had 
been,  could  throw  off.  No  matter  what  my  reason  told  me  ; 
no  matter  how  strong  were  the  dictates  of  judgment  and 
common  sense;  I  could  not  get  rid  of  the  terrible  convic- 
tion. The  fact  that  no  human  being  knew  of  my  agony,  not 
even  my  mother,  added  to  my  wretchedness.  I  felt  like  a 
wanderer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 

It  is  curious  how  such  kind  of  suffering  levels  all  distinc- 
tion in  our  feelings  toward  others.  That  morning  I  was 
eager  to  get  a  courteous  look  from  the  most  ordinary  travel- 
lei'  at  the  inn ;  I  was  anxious  to  speak  and  be  spoken  to ; 
and  yet  intercourse  with  any  one  made  my  heart  still  heavier. 
I  wondered  if  those  I  saw  had  not  some  secret  sorrow.  Could 
they  be  happy  and  unconcerned  as  they  appeared?  Sudden- 
ly I  thought  of  Emilie ;  and  the  thought  gave  me  a  new  im- 
pulse. I  longed  to  see  her  —  I  determined  I  would  see  her. 
But  how  could  I  find  my  way  to  her  humble  dwelling,  or 
what  apology  should  I  give,  if  I  found  it,  for  the  intrusion  % 


SAINT  LEGER.  43 

As  I  have  before  remarked*  the  story  of  Pierre  gave  (for  the 
first  time  in  my  life)  scope  to  sentiment ;  and  it  now  seemed 
about  to  prove  an  antidote  to  my  present  distress.  Not  that 
this  last  was  extinguished ;  it  was  only  quieted.  But  quiet  is 
a  great  relief  sometimes. 

Emilie  !  it  was  a  word  of  enchantment.  Could  I  leave 
without  seeing  her  1  Should  I  not  watch  for  the  coming 
of  the  old  Frenchman  to  give  his  daily  exhibition,  and 
then  accompany  him  home?  I  hesitated,  notwithstanding 
this  appeared  an  easy  way  to  accomplish  my  object.  What, 
after  all,  could  I  say  to  her,  or  how  should  I  address  the  mar- 
quis ?  "  No,  no,"  thought  I ;  "not  now — not  yet."  I  will 
remember  her,  but  we  meet  not  in  this  way.  When  I  am  • 
something  more  than  a  puling  child,  she  shall  see  me  —  shall 
know  me  ;  at  present,  adieu  !  I  was  now  in  haste  to  leave 
the  town,  and  took  accordingly  the  early  coach  for  London. 
I  secured  an  inside;  there  were  but  two  other  passengers 
with  me  ;  I  scarcely  noticed  them.  Retreating  into  one  cor- 
ner of  the  coach,  I  became  absorbed  in  reflections  of  varied 
character.  Passing  through  (unconsciously  to  me)  a  beautiful 
region,  after  some  four  hours,  the  wheels  struck  upon  the  pave- 
ments of  the  metropolis.  I  was  soon  at  my  father's  mansion 
in  P^ussell  Square,  and  found  old  Nancy  anxiously  expecting 
me.  The  kind  creature  had  lived  from  a  child  in  our  family, 
and  had  been  successively  promoted,  until  she  was  in- 
trusted with  the  charge  of  the  town  house.  It  was  early  in 
the  afternoon,  and  feeling  no  fatigue  from  my  journey,  I 
made  preparations  for  a  saunter  about  the  city.  London  was 
just  then  a  scene  of  extraordinary  excitement.  The  quarrel 
between  the  colonies  of  North  America  and  the  parent  state 
was  so  far  advanced  as  to  oe  almost  beyond  hope  of  recon- 
ciliation. Besides,  the  king  and  his  particular  adherents 
seemed  determined  to  redi.cc  the  colonies  to  submission  at 


44  SAINT   LEUER. 

any  sacrifice  ;  while  the  Rockingham  party,  who  had  obtain- 
ed an  honorable  fame  by  the  acknowledged  integrity  and 
high  character  of  their  illustrious  leader,  maintained  that  any 
farther  attempt  to  bring  back  the  colonies  to  obedience  would 
be  only  attended  by  loss  of  men  and  means,  and  expose  the 
country  to  the  successful  attacks  of  foreign  foes.  This  party 
was  in  favor  of  acknowledging  the  independence  of  the  new- 
styled  United  States  of  America.  The  Earl  of  Chatham  had 
been  for  some  time  in  strict  retirement.  It  was  well  known, 
however,  for  his  eloquence  had  forcibly  proclaimed  the  fact, 
that  the  earl  opposed  the  wretched  policy  which  had  placed 
the  government  and  her  American  dependencies  at  variance. 
He  had  glowingly  depicted  the  unnatural  war;  had  alluded 
with  scorn  and  indignation  to  the  employment  of  "hireling 
troops  and  merciless  savages,"  and  had  thundered  his  denun- 
ciations against  the  authors  of  this  inhuman  policy.  But  his 
eloquence  was  in  vain.  The  war  continued,  till  by  the  inter- 
ference of  France,  the  result  to  a  calm  observer  appeared 
doubtfid.  The  Rockingham  party  were  in  favor  of  a  cessa- 
tion of  hostilities,  and  of  acknowledging  the  independence  of 
the  United  States.  And  it  so  happened  that  the  Duke  of 
Richmond  had  given  notice  of  an  address  to  the  throne  to  that 
effect,  which  was  to  be  debated  on  the  very  day  I  arrived  in 
London.  This  I  learned  from  the  first  journal  I  took  up  at 
a  coffeehouse,  which  I  entered  shortly  after  leaving  Russell 
Square.  It  was  rumored  also  that  Chatham  would  appear  in 
his  place  in  the  house  of  lords  and  oppose  the  address.  His 
pride  for  his  country  had  overcome  every  other  considera- 
tion; and  though  he  objected  strongly  at  the  outset  to  the 
policy  by  which  government  had  been  guided,  yet  now  that 
issue  was  taken,  and  a  foreign  power  had  dared  to  side  with 
the  rebellious  colonies,  he  would  consent  to  yield  nothing ; 
not  an  inch  of  territory,  not  the  slightest  privilege ;  until  those 


SAINT  LEGEK. 


45 


colonies  were  taught  submission  !  It  may  easily  be  imagined 
that  I  felt  a  great  desire  to  be  present  on  so  remarkable  an 
occasion. 

I  had  not,  as  I  have  observed,  taken  any  interest  in  the 
every-day  politics  of  the  time.  The  notorious  profligacy  with 
which  they  were  managed,  and  the  unblushing  venality  which 
pervaded  office,  from  highest  to  lowest,  made  me  turn  dis- 
gusted from  the  study  of  present  legislation.  But  Chatham  I 
had  always  admired;  even  in  his  foibles,  I  almost  venerated 
him,  for  I  believed  him  pure.  My  father  was  a  strong  adher- 
ent of  William  Pitt,  and,  unlike  many  of  the  friends  of  the 
great  commoner,  he  did  not  turn  against  him  because  his 
sovereign  had  granted  him  a  peerage.  This  night  the  great 
man  was  to  speak.  I  had  never  seen  him,  and  it  might  be 
the  only  opportunity  I  should  have,  of  witnessing  that  sur- 
prising eloquence  of  which  I  had  heard  so  much.  Without 
farther  delay  I  hastened  home,  dressed,  and  proceeded  to  West- 
minster.    By  the  courtesy  of  the   Duke  of ,  I  procured 

admission  to  the  house  of  lords,  just  as  they  had  assembled. 

I  glanced  eagerly  around,  but  could  see  no  one  who  an- 
swered to  the  desci'iption  of  the  earl.  The  house  was  full, 
and  the  ordinary  business  was  going  forward.  I  thought  at 
first- that  I  had  been  misinformed,  or  that  the  public  rumor 
was  unfounded.  Still  there  was  an  evident  looking  for  some- 
thing to  come.  Expectation  seemed  to  wait  upon  every 
word,  every  motion,  however  insignificant.  There  was  some- 
thing in  the  very  atmosphere  which  told  of  the  approach  of  a 
scene.  The  common-place  business  went  on ;  motions  were 
made  and  carried ;  and  so  far,  everything  was  of  course. 
At  length  the  ordinary  routine  was  over.  The  Duke  of 
Richmond  rose  to  move  the  proposed  address  to  the  throne. 
At  the  same  moment,  a  slight  confusion  Avas  noticed  near  the 
entrance   leading  to   the   chancellor's  room.     The   confusion 


46  SAINT  LEGER. 

increased ;  when  the  Earl  of  Chatham  appeared,  supported 
by  his  son  and  son-in-law,  and  made  his  way  with  great  diffi- 
culty to  his  seat.  How  different  did  he  look  from  the  pic- 
ture in  my  imagination.  Where  was  the  erect  form,  the 
commanding  air,  the  fearful  frown,  the  noble  bearing,  for 
which  Pitt  was  so  remarkable?  Alas,  how  changed!  he  was 
emaciated  and  sallow;  his  wig  covered  nearly  all  of  his  face; 
his  limbs  were  closely  wrapped  in  flannels,  in  consequence 
of  gout,  and  his  whole  form  appeared  worn  out  by  contin- 
ual pain. 

The  house  was  hushed  to  a  death-like  stillness.  It  seem- 
ed as  if  respiration  would  disturb  its  repose.  At  length 
the  Duke  of  Richmond,  who  had  paused  until  the  earl 
was  seated,  commenced  the  debate.  The  duke's  speech 
was  sensible,  and  to  the  point.  He  took  a  full  survey  of  the 
causes  which  led  to  the  war;  of  the  policy  of  the  mother- 
country  toward  the  colonies,  and  of  the  subsisting  relation  of 
things;  and  concluded  by  showing  most  forcibly,  that  no 
benefit  could  possibly  be  expected  by  a  further  prosecution 
of  hostilities. 

When  the  duke  had  taken  his  seat,  Chatham  slowly  rose. 
Expectation  now  reached  its  highest  point.  Every  eye  was 
strained,  every  ear  excited.  Breathless,  I  leaned  forward  to 
catch  the  first  tones  of  his  voice.  But  I  could  hear  nothing 
save  a  low,  inarticulate  muttering,  of  which  I  could  not  un- 
derstand a  syllable.  My  heart  sunk  within  me,  out  of  sym- 
pathy for  the  man  upon  whom  "senates  had  waited"  so 
submissively.  I  could  not  bear  to  feel  compassion  for  Mm. 
The  same  anxious  attention,  the  same  solemn  death-like  still- 
ness continued.  By  degrees  the  earl's  voice  became  less 
incoherent,  and  his  words,  spoken  slowly  and  with  difficulty, 
could  be  distinguished.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  reviving 
as  he  advanced.  One  great  idea  seemed  to  be  at  his  heart, 
and  that  was  a  sense  of  the  degradation  which  had  come  upon 


SAINT  LEGER. 


47 


his  country.  As  this  idea  became  gradually  developed,  his 
voice  assumed  its  natural  tone ;  his  eye  once  more  gleamed 
with  its  ancient  fire;  his  form  despite  of  disease  and  age, 
dilated,  and  Pitt  stood  up,  commanding  and  impressive. 
There  he  rose,  in  proud  elevation,  his  left  foot  advanced,  his 
right  firm,  his  left  hand  clenched  and  resting  upon  his  hip, 
his  body  slightly  bending  forward,  and  his  right  arm  extend- 
ed, his  hand  open  downward,  with  a  half-menacing,  half- 
deprecatory  air. 

"My  lords,"  exclaimed  the  earl,  "where  is  the  majesty 
of  the  throne  1  where  the  dignity  of  this  noble  house  1 
where  the  power  of  the  legislature  ?  where  the  honor  of 
England  %  Gone  !  lost !  shamefully  yielded  up  to  a  he- 
reditary foe,  who  boasts  of  her  power  to  humble  us  in  the 
dust;  ay,  boasts  of  it;  proclaims  it  at  foreign  courts,  and 
taunts  us  with  it  at  our  very  doors.  I  call  upon  the  noble 
duke  to  bear  me  witness,  that  none  deplored  the  unhappy 
differences  with  America  more  than  I ;  that  none  opposed 
the  obnoxious  measures  taken  to  subject  and  oppress  her, 
more  than  I :  but,  my  lords,  the  die  once  cast;  the  honor  of 
the  nation  at  stake,  and  rebellion,  aided  by  the  most  odious 
of  foreign  interference,  lifting  up  its  head  to  brave  the  lawful 
and  salutary  restraint  of  government,  there  is  no  longer  room 
for  debate.  When  the  question  is  degradation  at  home  and 
abroad,  or  war,  let  us  have  war !  War  with  all  its  horrors, 
all  its  evils,  all  its  iniquities,  but  not  dishonor.  Ay,  let  us  suf- 
fer anything,  all  things,  rather  than  disgrace  and  ignominy!" 

It  was  said  that  some  parts  of  Chatham's  speech  on  that 
memorable  night  equalled  the  best  efforts  of  his  best  days. 
Certain  it  is,  that  for  several  minutes  he  showed  no  signs  of 
debility,  or  any  loss  of  his  natural  vigor.  But  in  a  short  time 
his  strength  failed ;  his  mind  appeared  to  wander  from  the 
subject  of  debate;  and  his  voice  again  fell  so  low  as  scarcely 
to  be  audible.     In  this   he  way   he  continued,    occasionally 


48  SAINT  LEGER. 

rousing  himself  for  the  moment,  but  again  relapsing  into  a 
low  and  indistinct  tone. 

The  earl  sat  down.  Deep  silence  pervaded  the  house. 
There  was  a  sadness  upon  the  spirit  of  every  one  present,  for 
every  one  felt  that  the  great  man  had  spoken  for  the  last  time. 
There  was  little  inclination  to  proceed  with  the  debate. 
After  a  long  pause,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  rose,  and  in  the 
mildest  manner  defended  his  own  opinions.  During  this 
second  speech,  Chatham,  upon  whom  all  eyes  were  still  turn- 
ed, appeared  nervous  and  impatient.  The  duke  closed; 
Chatham  immediately  rose,  as  if  to  reply;  but  he  uttered  no 
word.  He  appeared  to  be  struggling  with  his  strong  emo- 
tions. Suddenly  he  placed  his  hand  upon  his  heart  and  fell 
back  into  the  arms  of  his  friends.  The  earl  had  been  struck 
by  apoplexy. 

A  scene  of  confusion  ensued,  which  it  would  be  impossible 
to  describe.  The  excitement  was  intense.  The  earl  was 
immediately  conveyed  away,  and  the  house  broke  up.  I  left 
the  place,  and  drove  to  Russell  Square,  deeply  impressed 
with  the  solemn  scene  I  had  just  witnessed.  It  had  done  me 
great  good.  It  brought  my  mental  energies  into  action,  and 
drove  away  the  mists  which  like  a  foul  miasma  had  poisoned 
my  soul.  I  had  now  something  to  think  of,  which  was  real 
and  practical.  I  had  read  of  greatness,  and  here  was  its  end! 
My  mind  was  carried  away  with  the  reality.  I  found  there 
was  no  pomp,  parade,  nor  circumstance,  in  bare  truth.  I  be- 
gan to  reason  more  clearly :  I  turned  my  thoughts  inward, 
and  asked  myself  if  I  had  anything  to  do  ;  and  my  conscience 
troubled  me  when  I  tried  to  answer  the  question.  Full  of 
these  ideas,  I  lay  awake  nearly  the  whole  night,  revolving  in 
my  mind  the  events  of  the  previous  evening.  How  strange 
the  constitution  of  youth !  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  distress 
of  the  preceding  day  —  I  had  forgotten  Emilie. 


SAINT  LEGEtt.  49 


IX. 

I  remained  in  London  but  four  days  ;  and  each  successive 
day  brought  a  change  in  my  feelings.  The  salutary  impulse 
given  to  my  spirit  by  the  scenes  I  had  witnessed  in  parlia- 
ment, soon  yielded  to  the  old  disease.  The  sight  of  the 
crowd,  the  bustle  and  noise  and  tumult  of  the  metropolis 
wearied  me,  for  after  the  first  excitement  was  over,  my  mind 
was  ill  at  ease.  Have  you  not  at  different  periods  felt  a  sense 
of  misery  steal  over  you,  without  being  able  to  account  for  it  I 
Have  you  never  awaked  in  the  morning,  feeling  an  unhappy 
sensation  at  your  heart — a  sort  of  half-smothered  pang — 
which  you  could  not  shake  off,  but  which  you  could  not  ex- 
plain I  I  do  not  stop  to  examine  the  cause  of  feelings  which 
the  experience  of  most  will  at  once  recognise.  I  have  at 
present  to  do  simply  with  narrative,  reserving  such  reflections 
for  a  future  chapter.  I  was  now  every  way  unhappy.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  elastic  spring  of  childhood  had  resisted  and 
resisted  the  insidious  approach  of  the  fiend,  until  no  elasticity 
remained.  If,  therefore,  I  ceased  to  feel  as  acutely,  I  also 
suffered  less  acutely  ;  but  so  much  greater  the  danger  that 
my  disease  should  pass  the  limit  of  recovery.  Prayer  was 
no  relief  to  me  —  so  I  ceased  to  pray,  altogether.  Yet  I  was 
only  sixteen  !  I  felt  many  years  older;  and  my  frame,  owing 
to  the  vigorous  exercise  to  which  I  had  subjected  it,  was  al- 
ready well  developed.  I  was  tall,  well  formed  ;  and  as  I  be- 
fore remarked,  athletic  ;  yet  the  mental  anxiety  which  I  had 
endured  gave  a  thoughtful  expression  to  my  countenance, 
quite  at  variance  with  my  natural  buoyancy  of  feeling,  I  say 
4 


.50  SAINT  LEGER 

that  I  had  ceased  to  pray.  But  I  could  not  give  up  my  hold 
upon  sacred  things  without  remorse,  while  I  felt  that  I  was 
only  more  miserable  by  thus  putting  off  the  evil  day.  It  ap- 
peared that  nothing  remained  for  me  but  to  lay  hold  of  the 
world,  and  give  myself  up  to  it ;  not  in  wickedness,  nor  in 
excess,  but  "  till  I  might  see  what  was  that  good  for  the  sons 
of  men,  which  they  should  do  under  the  heaven  all  the  days 
of  their  life."  The  world  seemed  a  world  to  enjoy  :  that  is,  if 
one  could  bring  it  to  pass,  and  I  resolved  to  try. 

I  had  begun  to  answer  my  old  question  about  the  what  and 
the  why.  Yet  the  answer  gave  me  no  satisfaction.  Enjoy- 
ment ?  pleasure  1  gratification  1  The  sounds  were  empty 
ones ;  yet  I  determined  to  listen  to  them.  Within  five  days  I  was 
thus  metamorphosed.  Three  separate  incidents  had  thrilled 
my  soul,  and  were  all  working  together ;  Emilie,  the  specta- 
cle in  the  house  of  lords,  and  those  fearful  words  of  holy 
writ.  Although  the  last  seemed  to  have  lost  their  effect  up- 
on me,  they  were  perhaps  in  reality  more  powerful  than  either 
of  the  former.  A  vague  ambition  to  know  and  be  known, 
was  kindled  by  my  visit  to  Westminster,  but  this  soon  yielded 
an  equal  place  to  the  recollection  of  the  young  French  girl. 
But  the  three,  considered  as  mere  incidents,  were  shortly 
banished,  although  all  exercised  a  latent  but  powerful  influ- 
ence over  my  coming  destiny. 

X. 

Four  days  I  had  been  in  London.  The  fifth  saw  me  on 
my  route  toward  Scotland.  Thougr  miserable  enough,  I  was 
determined.  What  there  might  be  uf  happiness  in  the  world, 
I  was  resolved  to  know  ;  and  I  threw  myself,  without  further 
thought,  upon  the  trial.  I  reached  Edinburgh  in  safety.  This 
was  my  first  visit    to  Scotland,  and    I   stopped  two  or  three 


SAINT  LEGER 


51 


days  to  view  the  interesting  objects  within  the  town.  I  pro- 
ceeded next  to  Glasgow  and  Stirling.  As  I  advanced  into  the 
Highlands,  my  admiration  gradually  increased  at  the  wonders 
of  nature  which  I  beheld  on  all  sides.  The  lofty  mountains, 
the  deep  and  dark  glens,  relieved  often  by  delightful  valleys, 
produced  an  impression  of  grandeur  never  before  excited  in 
my  breast.  The  beautiful  lochs  enclosed  within  the  recesses 
of  the  mountains,  crowned  with  every  variety  of  verdure,  had 
the  t'ffect  of  enchantment  upon  my  enthusiastic  mind.  How 
I  gloried  in  that  Highland  tour!  Oh,  Nature,  Nature, in  thy 
deep  solitude,  what  heart  of  man  can  retain  a  feeling  of  evil ! 
what  imagination  can  conceive  a  thought  of  sin ! 

I  had  reached  Inverary,  a  small  neat  town,  at  the  head  of 
Loch  Fyne,  the  capital  of  the  Western  Highlands.  This 
brought  me  near  the  end  of  my  journey  :  for  Glencoe,  the  seat 
of  the  Earl  of  Venachoir,  was  situated  in  the  beautiful  valley 
of  that  name,  about  thirty  miles  distant.  Here  I  determined 
to  take  horse.  I  procured  a  strong  and  serviceable  but 
not  very  fleet  nag,  and  refusing  the  aid  offered  by  mine  host 
of  the  Three  Herons,  of  a  stout,  sandy-haired,  bandy-legged 
urchin,  called  Swankie  Benjie,  to  act  as  guide,  I  departed, 
after  many  injunctions  that  "  I  maun  gang  the  right  gate,  or 
mickle  waur  wad  it  be  for  me."  As  I  was  particular  to  take 
minute  directions  about  my  course,  I  felt  that  I  had  a  pretty 
good  knowledge  of  the  route,  and  was  therefore  the  less  in- 
timidated by  this  caution.  Leaving  the  town,  I  struck  at 
once  into  a  part  of  the  Highlands  more  grand  and  impressive 
than  anything  I  had  yet  beheld.  As  I  advanced,  new  and 
unexpected  objects  presented  themselves.  Now,  as  I  climbed 
the  side  of  a  mountain,  there  would  suddenly  burst  on  my 
view  a  silvery  sheet  of  water,  full  of  picturesque  beauty,  re- 
posing quiescent  and  unruffled  in  the  very  heart  of  the  old 
hills.     On   one  side  the  rocks  were  piled   upon  each  other, 


52  SAINT  LEGE II. 

forming  precipices  which  it  was  frightful  to  behold  ;  deep 
chasms  or  ravines  lay  far  below  me,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
flowed  small  streams  of  water  ;  and  these,  after  winding  and 
turning  around  the  bed  of  the  mountain,  found  their  way  into 
some  loch  or  river.  Again  I  would  emerge  into  a  long  val- 
ley, diversified  with  fine  woods  and  rich  pasturage,  equal  in 
beauty  and  fertility  to  any  region  I  hat.  ever  beheld.  The 
air  was  cool  and  bracing ;  and  as  I  spurred  on  my  horse, 
my  heart  beat  full  within  me  once  more,  and  I  felt  what  sup- 
port real  solitude,  Nature's  solitude,  could  bring  to  the  soul. 

As  the  day  declined,  I  approached  Glencoe.  The  spot  was 
famed  for  its  picturesque  beauty.  The  sun  was  just  melting 
away  into  the  small  but  beautiful  loch  in  the  vale  of  Glencoe, 
when  I  came  in  sight  of  the  castle.  It  was  a  fine  antique 
pile,  situated  at  the  head  of  the  loch,  and  commanding  a  view 
of  the  delightful  valley  beyond ;  while  on  either  side  a  range 
of  lofty  mountains  extending  beyond  the  sight,  cast  their  dark 
shadows  far  across  the  vale,  and  gave  to  the  scene  an  air  of 
gloomy  magnificence.  I  pushed  on  with  what  speed  I  could ; 
and  spurring  my  horse  into  something  between  a  pace  and  a 
gallop,  I  soon  reached  the  entrance  to  the  park  which  sur- 
rounded the  mansion.  The  ponderous  gate  stood  open,  as  if 
to  invite  the  traveller  to  enter.  A  small  but  strongly-built 
tower  stood  on  each  side,  commanding  the  entrance,  and  the 
road  wound  through  the  grounds,  turning  in  every  direction 
before  it  reached  the  castle.  The  walk  I  had  just  entered 
bore  frequent  marks  of  horses'  hoofs  fresh  cut  into  the  gravel ; 
and  as  I  proceeded,  I  heard  sounds  of  laughter  and  frolic,  at 
no  great  distance,  while  the  thick  foliage  by  which  I  was  sur- 
rounded prevented  a  view  of  the  merry-makers.  In  a  mo- 
ment, however,  I  emerged  from  the  thick  seclusion  of  the 
wood,  and  came  in  sight  of  the  castle,  which  was  directly  be- 
fore me.  Around  the  portico  were  gathered  a  company,  of 
both  sexes,  on  horseback,  apparently  jus:  returning  from  au 


SAINT  LEGER,  53 

excursion.  I  felt  the  awkwardness  of  my  situation ;  travel- 
worn  as  I  appeared,  upon  a  dull  horse,  which  was  now 
thoroughly  jaded  from  his  day's  labor.  But  there  was  no  al- 
ternative :  so  I  pushed  on.  My  pride  was  always  my  pro- 
tector. Although  a  weakness  in  my  character,  it  supplied  the 
place  of  a  severer  virtue.  My  approach  was  not  unobserved ; 
and  as  soon  as  I  came  near  enough  to  be  recognised,  one  of 
the  party  dashed  forward,  galloped  rapidly  up  to  me,  and 
exclaimed  :  "  Cousin  William,  upon  my  word,  you  have  come 
at  last !     Welcome  to  Glencoe." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  dear  Hubert,"  said  I ;  "  I  am 
right  glad  to  get  here,  I  assure  you.  Let  me  tell  you  in  ad- 
vance how  I  love  the  Highlands.  What  a  glorious  country !  — 
what " 

"  Stay,"  said  Hubert,  interrupting  me,  "  till  you  and  I  have 
had  a  grand  hunt  over  ledge  and  rock,  through  the  moor  and 
across  the  mountain,  glen,  and  morass.  None  of  your  gentle 
park -hunting,  such  as  you  find  among  the  woods  of  War- 
wickshire !  Wait  till  we  have  had  a  hunt,  such  as  I  call  a 
hunt,  and  then  admire  as  much  as  you  like.  But  come  (for 
we  had  not  advanced  a  step)  come ;  yon  group  will  think  1 
am  keeping  you  all  to  myself.  We  have  this  moment  return- 
ed from  a  ride  of  four  hours ;  you  have  arrived  just  in  time, 
for  we  are  all  as  hungry  as  wolves,  and  you  will  be  none  the 
worse  for  breaking  your  fast,  which  I  dare  say  has  lasted 
since  the  morning.     Come  on." 

"  Not  just  in  this  plight  :  look  at  my  horse  ;"  said  I,  throw- 
ing myself  off,  and  pointing  to  the  animal,  which  exhibited 
decided  signs  of  the  discipline  I  had  subjected  it  to.  "  Ex- 
cuse me  f< )r  not  venturing  into  your  company  under  too  ma- 
ny disadvantages." 

Hubert  laughed  at  the  appeal,  but  immediately  dismounted. 
"Well,  you  shall  have  your  own  way,"  said  he;  "Charlie 
will  see  to  the  nags.     Now  come  along."     And  thrusting  his 


54 


SAINT  LEGER. 


arm  within  mine,  we  proceeded  to  the  mansion.  "  Pray,  tell 
me,"  I  asked,  "  before  we  get  any  nearer,  who  you  have 
there  V  "  Nobody,"  replied  Hubert,  with  nonchalance ;  "just 
our  own  family,  and  a  friend  or  so." 

"  Your  family,  then,  have  marvellously  increased  of  late. 
You  have  two  sisters  and  a  brother  :  but  there  are  some  half 
dozen  mounted." 

"  Well,  then,  Mr.  Englishman,  if  you  must  know,  the 
young  man  in  front  is  the  young  laird  of  Glenross  ;  the  lady 
on  the  gray  horse,  is  his  sister  :  they  have  only  joined  us  for 
the  ride.  The  youth  behind,  whose  face  you  can  not  see,  is  a 
forty-fifth  cousin  of  yours  and  mine  :  at  least  my  father  says 
so.  He  is  from  foreign  parts,  I  believe  ;  he  has  spent  nearly  a 
week  with  us,  and  will  stay  as  much  longer  as  he  pleases. 
My  sisters  and  my  brother  Frank  you  know  without  an  in- 
troduction." 

The  party  dismounted  as  we  approached.  My  cousin 
Frank  came  forward,  and  again  I  was  welcomed  to  Glencoe ; 
while  his  sisters  advanced  and  greeted  me  with  the  greatest 
cordiality.  I  was  then  formally  presented  to  the  young  laird 
of  Glenross  and  to  his  sister.  There  remained  but  the  "  for- 
ty-fifth cousin"  to  be  disposed  of;  he  had  lingered  behind  the 
rest,  giving  some  orders  to  his  servant,  so  that  I  had  not  as  yet 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  features.  But  as  Frank  called  out  his 
name,  he  approached,  and  my  old  stage-coach  acquaintance 
from  Warwick  —  the  foreign-looking  stranger  —  stood  before 
me.  I  was  taken  by  surprise,  but  I  was  not  confused.  My  fel- 
low-traveller, on  the  contrary,  seemed  aware  in  advance,  of  my 
presence,  having  no  doubt  recognised  me  at  my  first  approach. 
He  appeared  under  some  restraint,  which  he  endeavored  to 
conceal  by  assuming  an  openness  of  manner  quite  at  vari- 
ance with  what  I  believed  tc  be  his  real  character. 

"  Count  Vautrey,  this  is  my  cousin,  William  Henry  Saint 
Leger,"  said  Frank  :   "  Saint  Leger,  Count  Vautrey!" 


SAINT  LEGER.  55 

The  count  bowed  politely,  or  rather  with  assumed  polite- 
ness. 

"  I  think  we  have  met  before,"  said  he,  attempting  some- 
thing like  good  humor,  while  a  half-malevolent  smile  strug- 
gled for  expression  on  his  features ;  "  and  if  I  owe  you  an 
apology,  I  will  make  haste  to  tender  it,  pleading  for  excuse  my 
ignorance  of  the  masquerade  coach-dress,  and  supposing, 
from  your  familiarity  with  the  whip,  that  you  were  some  near 
friend  of  his,  especially  as  you  stopped  at  the  quarters  he 
recommended." 

"  I  accept  your  apology,"  replied  I,  in  a  similar  tone,  "  with 
the  same  readiness  that  I  allow  your  excuse  :  so  let  the  mat- 
ter be  put  at  rest.  If  I  discussed  ethical  subjects  with  old 
Walter,  or  passed  a  night  at  the  Hen  and  Chickens,  it  has 
neither  lowered  my  standard  of  morality  nor  weakened  my 
self-respect." 

Farther  speech  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  the 
Earl  of  Venachoir  and  lady,  who  received  me  with  warm 
greetings,  and  extended  the  proffers  of  true  Scottish  hospital- 
ity. Without  more  ado  we  entered  the  mansion,  when  I  ob- 
tained leave  to  retire  a  few  moments  to  adjust  my  dress,  pre- 
vious to  appearing  in  the  dining-hall.  This  done,  I  has- 
tened to  join  the  company,  who  were  just  ready  to  set 
down  to  a  most  bountiful  repast.  I  need  not  describe  the  en- 
tertainment. It  is  enough  to  say  that  it  was  just  such  a  one 
as  your  sportsman  loves — where  a  preference  is  decidedly 
given  to  the  substantials,  and  which  delights  the  appetite  of 
the  traveller,  sharpened  by  hard  riding,  long  fasting,  and  lean 
fare.  It  was  cheerful  and  lasted  well  into  the  evening.  In- 
deed, I  did  not  wait  to  the  conclusion — claiming  the  privilege 
of  a  weary  man,  to  retire  early.  Accordingly,  when  the  la- 
dies had  left  the  hall,  and  the  young  laird  announced  that  he 
must  depart  —  adding,  by  way  of  apology,  that  his  sister  was 
under  his  protection — I  also  took  leave,  and  found  the  way 


56  SAINT  LEGER. 

to  my  apartment.  This  was  a  moderate-sized  room  in  a  wing 
adjoining  the  northwest  part  of  the  castle,  connected  with 
the  main  building  by  a  long  corridor,  or  hall,  and  it  was  evi- 
dently of  modern  construction.  The  room  on  one  side  look- 
ed out  over  the  silvery  loch  upon  which  the  castle  was  built, 
upon  the  other,  the  high  range  of  mountains  frowned  fear- 
fully down.  I  threw  open  the  casement  and  let  the  air 
have  free  passage  through  the  apartment.  My  breast  was 
filled  with  singular  emotions ;  my  ideas  were  confused,  my 
brain  troubled.  "Count  Vautrey  —  Count  Vautrey,"  1  re- 
peated :  "  the  name  is  familiar-  to  me ;  a  distant  relative,  too  ?" 
But  soliloquising  on  the  subject  brought  no  nearer  the  solu- 
tion ;  yet  the  name  awakened  a  train  of  associations,  confused 
and  indistinct,  but  which  carried  me  back  to  infancy,  and 
then,  running  still  farther  on,  became  lost  in  that  unremem- 
bered  world  of  fresh  images,  fresh  ideas,  and  fresh  wonders  — 
the  first  days  of  human  life.  Feeling  thus,  I  retired,  and  af- 
ter wearying  myself  in  endeavors  to  become  satisfied  of  some- 
thing, at  length  sank  into  a  sound  slumber. 

XI. 

Francis  Moxcrieff,  Earl  of  Venachoir,  was  of  ancient 
lineage,  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  Scotland. 
He  was  full  cousin  to  my  mother  (her  own  and  the  earl's 
mother  were  sisters),  and  in  consequence  of  their  having  no 
other  cousin,  the  relationship  was  the  more  cherished ;  so 
that  their  children  were  taught  to  regard  each  other  as  near 
kinsfolk.  The  earl  was  about  fifty  years  of  age.  He  had  a 
commanding  figure,  and  a  face  expressive  of  firmness  and  de- 
cision ;  and  his  ample  forehead  betokened  thoughtfulness 
and  benevolence.  He  was  known  throughout  the  country  for 
his  prudence  and  integrity.  Ever  firm  in  adherence  to  his 
king,  his  mild  and  liberal  views,  added  to  extensive  influence, 


SAINT  LEGER.  ^ 

had  done  much  to  conciliate  those  of  his  countrymen  who  had 
engaged  in  an  unhappy  and  fruitless  contest  against  the 
crown.  He  stood  high  in  the  esteem  of  his  sovereign  and  of 
the  court,  and  was  respected  as  well  as  feared  by  the  most 
audacious  cateran.  The  countess,  his  wife,  was  a  daughter 
of  the  house  of  Argyle,  and  in  her  youth  was  famed  far  and 
near  for  every  attraction  of  her  sex.  She  had  been  educated 
in  France,  and  it  was  in  that  country  that  the  earl,  then  Fran- 
cis Moncrieff,  met  by  chance  the  haughty  daughter  of  the 
great  duke.  Whether  the  foundation  was  there  laid  for  his 
future  successful  suit,  I  can  not  say  ;  but  it  is  certain,  the  lady 
frowned  upon  every  lover  until  young  Moncrieff  appeared, 
and  he  was  never  known  to  pay  devoirs  to  any  save  his  future 
bride.  She  was  about  five  summers  younger -than  the  earl, 
and  did  the  honors  of  the  castle  with  a  grace  I  have  never 
seen  excelled. 

Of  the  children,  Francis  was  the  eldest.  He  had  only  pass- 
ed his  majority  by  a  year  or  two.  He  inherited  the  sedate  and 
dignified  manner  of  his  father,  and  at  an  early  age  was  called 
by  the  rest  of  the  family  the  young  philosopher.  He  was  uni- 
formly courteous,  and  although  living  in  a  country  where  it 
was  difficult  always  to  sustain  such  a  character,  nevertheless 
preserved  it.  Margaret,  the  next,  was  nineteen.  She  had 
grown  up,  elegant,  sensible,  and  unaffected,  without  the  ro- 
mantic notions  one  would  suppose  a  young  lady  might  imbibe 
in  the  Highlands.  There  was  a  quiet  reserve  in  her  manner, 
which  might  be  mistaken  for  hauteur,  but  a  farther  acquaint- 
ance would  convince  one  of  the  error.  Her  education  was 
received  at  home ;  both  the  earl  and  countess  being  of  opir  - 
ion  that  the  fashion  in  Scotland  of  sending  the  youth  upon 
the  continent  for  mental  training  was  injurious  to  the  interests 
of  the  United  Kingdom,  as  they  were  sure  to  imbibe  strong 
prejudices  against  England,  which  it  was  all-important  now 


BB 


SAINT  LEGER. 


to  put  at  rest.  My  cousin  Margaret  possessed  a  mind  of  no 
ordinary  cast.  She  was  neither  earned  away  by  the  circum- 
stance of  her  birth,  nor  elated  at  what  too  often  excites  the 
female  heart,  the  constant  adulation  of  the  other  sex  ;  and,  as 
I  have  said,  possessed  too  much  sense  to  be  spoiled  by  flat- 
tery or  led  away  by  mere  tinsel.  Hubert  came  next  in  age, 
being  something  more  than  a  year  older  than  myself.  He 
was  a  daring,  head-strong  youth,  alike  fearless  on  every  oc- 
casion, and  with  all  the  courage  and  hardihood  of  a  true  high- 
land chief.  I  always  loved  him  as  a  brother.  Not  a  shadow 
of  selfishness  ever  crossed  his  heart.  Open,  straight-forward, 
and  resolute,  he  scorned  an  intriguing,  crafty  spirit.  Pas- 
sionate perhaps  he  might  be  termed ;  but  if  in  error,  there 
was  none  so  quick  as  he  to  acknowledge  it.  He  was  short 
and  muscular,  and  his  forehead  was  expansive  and  profusely 
covered  with  light  brown  hair.  Ella,  the  youngest,  was  a  per- 
fect fairy.  She  was  nearly  sixteen,  just  old  enough  to  be  very 
romantic,  and  to  be  very  full  of  fun  and  frolic.  She  had  good 
sense,  too  ;  but  as  she  was  situated,  did  not  find  it  always  ne- 
cessary to  tax  this  somewhat  praiseworthy  quality.  She  bade 
fair  to  be  a  great  beauty  and  a  great  wit ;  and  in  the  incipi- 
ent exercise  of  her  vocation,  manifested  so  much  real  kind- 
ness of  heart,  that,  in  spite  of  petty  caprices  and  a  mischief- 
loving  spirit,  she  was  a  general  favorite  with  all  who  visited 
the  castle. 

The  reader  has  now  an  idea  of  the  family  in  which  for  a 
short  season  T  was  to  be  domesticated.  It  should  be  remem- 
bered that  I  speak  of  them  as  they  appeared  in  their  inter- 
course with  each  other.  The  world  might  have  formed  a  verv 
different  opinion  in  many  respects;  for  the  Yenachoir  were 
of  a  haughty  lineage  as  well  as  noble,  else  one  of  the  house 
could  never  have  mated  with  a  daughter  of  MacCallum 
More.  How  much  the  world  would  have  been  mistaken 
in  the   estimate.    I  leave    for  those    to  determine   who  have 


SAINT  LEGEIL  59 

so  often  felt  the  injustice    of  its  censure  and  the  shallow- 
ness of  its  praise. 

yi. 

I  was  awakened  in  the  morning  by  a  loud  knocking  at  my 
door,  which  was  continued  until  I  was  fain  to  shout  that 
I  was  neither  asleep  nor  deaf,  and  to  demand  what  was 
wanting. 

"  Thanks  for  a  response  at  last !"  exclaimed  a  voice  which 
I  knew  to  be  Hubert's.  "Here  I  have  been  making  a  tumult 
for  at  least  five  minutes,  and  not  one  word  could  I  get  from 
you.  I  was  going  to  take  a  run  across  the  glen  after  moor- 
fowl,  and  if  you  care  to  go  along,  we  have  no  time  to  lose. 
The  sun  will  soon  be  peeping  over  Ben  Cruachan,  and  then 
it  will  be  too  late." 

"  I  will  not  detain  you  three  minutes,"  I  exclaimed ;  and 
hurrying  on  my  dress  without  ceremony,  I  proceeded  to  join 
Hubert,  whom  I  found  in  the  court-yard,  almost  impatient  at 
my  delay. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  he ;  "  you  have  rested  well,  I  hope, 
and  are  ready  for  a  little  ramble  before  yon  sluggards  are 
out  of  their  beds.  Excuse  my  rousing  you,  but  I  knew  you 
would  like  the  excursion." 

We  mounted  our  nags  forthwith,  attended  by  Christie,  an 
old  huntsman,  who  enjoyed  the  sport  with  a  keen  relish,  and 
a  small  boy  to  take  care  of  the  horses  when  we  should  dis- 
mount. We  had  some  half-dozen  miles  to  ride  before  reach- 
ing the  glen,  but  I  was  perfectly  recovered  from  the  fatigue 
of  the  previous  day,  and  felt  invigorated  by  the  fresh  breath 
of  the  morning.  Would  I  could  depict  the  glories  of  early 
dawn  in  the  highlands  !  The  bracing  atmosphere,  so  pure, 
so  invigorating  ;  the  awful  silence  of  the  old  hills,  and  the 
stillness  of  the  valley ;   the  beauty  pTthe  ever-varying  scenery, 


SAINT  LEGER. 

now  mcd  enchanting  in  repose  :  all  these  can  never  be  ade- 
quately described,  even  when  they  are  realized.  We  rode 
on  for  B  time  in  high  alee,  putting  our  horses  to  the  jump, 
and  then  checking  them  into  a  slower  pace.  As  we  turned 
down  a  ragged  path,  which  brought  us  close  to  each  other,  I 
toward  my  cousin,  and  said  :  "Hubert,  pardon 
my  abruptness,  bul  pray  tell  me  who  is  that  Count  Vautrey?" 
•■  1  sometimes  think,'*  responded  Hubert,  slowly,  "that  he 
is  the  devil,     li'  1  am   mistaken,   1    beg   pardon  of  the  evil 

••  No  jesting,   I  beg  of  you,  because  I    am   concerned  to 
know,"  1  replied.     "  Tell  me  what  you  meant  by  saying  he 
was  our  forty-fifth  cousin,  and  what  does  he  at  Glencoe,  and 
i  lie  claim  your  hospitality  V 

"\  !"•<  tty  si  of  questions  I  am  to  answer,  and  all  to  be 
done  fasting !"  quoth  Hubert.  "  I  detest  genealogy,  so  you 
must  apply  to  Margaret.  You  know  there  is  a  French  cross 
m  our  hue  for  back;  Heaven  send  us  no  more  specimens  of 
it  !  What  lie  does  at  Glencoe  you  will  soon  see  for  yourself. 
I  can  DOf  discover  that  he  does  anything  except  talk  nonsense 
to  Ella,  when  the  girl  will  listen  to  him,  and  that  is  far  too 
"1,,'":  ;""1  '  confabs  with  that  treacherous-looking 

Wretch,  hi.  servant,  whose  pate  1  fear  I  am  doomed  to  break 
if  he  .stays  much  lon^r.  Why  he  claims  our  hospitality,  1 
know  not.  ( >,,  that  point  I  must  refer  you  to  my  respected 
father,  if  you  chose  to  question  him." 

•T.ut  why  do  yon  speak  so  strongly,"  continued  I,  "if  you 
know  so  little  about  him  V 

"Cousin  William."  was  the  answer,  "you  probe  me,  but  1 
''  a"  I  can  say.      You  detest    this  Count  Vautrey— I 
kmnv  >""  ,l"-      '    ^  e  il  lu  your  manner;  I  saw  it  last  even- 
ing.     It    seem,   you  have  met— casually  met— and  you   can 
not  bear   the  sigh,  „,-  ,,„„.      r,n  Jm    ^    g  ^^   fc  ^  f 

Neither  can  1  give  any."  he  added,  seeing  T  remained  silent. 


SAINT  LEGER.  gj 

"  for  my  own  determined  dislike.     But  here   we   are  at  the 
glen  ;   and  now  for  the  sport !" 

We  returned  to  the  castle  to  a  rather  late  breakfast,  but 
with  the  zest  and  spirits  of  successful  sportsmen.  The  de- 
lightful change  of  situation,  and  the  bracing  exercise  of  high- 
land life,  told  at  the  outset  upon  my  mind.  Hope  was  again 
in  the  ascendant. 

XIII. 

As  we  returned  from  our  excursion,  we  encountered  my 
cousin  Ella,  a  little  way  from  the  castle,  standing  alone,  as  if 
waiting  for  our  approach.  I  at  once  dismounted  and  bade 
her  good  morning. 

"Upon  my  word,  Hubert,"  she  exclaimed,  addressing  her 
brother,  "this  is  a  new  kind  of  civility ;  to  drag  a  visiter  from 
his  repose  before  daylight,  the  first  morning  after  his  arrival, 
to  follow  yourself  and  Christie  wherever  you  choose  to  lead." 

"Our  cousin  Saint  Leger  a  visiter!  Shame  on  you,  Ella!" 
retorted  Hubert ;  "he  is  no  more  a  visiter  at  Glencoe  than  1 
am ;  and  as  to  my  leading  him  a  ramble,  on  my  word,  we 
have  hard  work  to  keep  up  with  him,  either  in  the  ride  or 
the  hunt.  '  Visiter'  forsooth  !  A  lad  that  will  do  what  Saint 
Leger  has  done  since  daybreak,  kinsman  or  no  kinsman,  is 
at  home  at  Glencoe." 

"  How  you  delight  to  turn  everything  to  my  disadvantage," 
replied  Ella,  good-humoredly ;  "  I  but  desired  to  show  that  1 
was  mindful  of  our  cousin's  comfort,  and  you  at  once  torture 
what  I  say  into  an  appearance  of  inhospitality,  or  something 
worse." 

"  Because,  because,  Ella,"  said  her  brother,  "what  you  said 
was  not  heartfelt ;  you  knew  that  Saint  Leger  enjoyed  such 
excursions.  You  knew  that  he  would  enjoy  this ;  and  yet, 
with  the  petty  affectation  of  the  day,  which  by  the  way  is  my 


62  SAINT  LEGER. 

especial  abhorrence,  you  accuse  me  of  dragging  him  out 
against  his  will." 

"Hubert!"  exclaimed  Ella,  half  reproachfully;  as  she 
spoke,  her  brother  at  once  dismounted,  and  running  up  to 
her  exclaimed  :■ 

"  Now  do  not  be  serious,  Nell,  for  if  you  get  into  that  strain 
T  am  done;  but,"  he  added  quickly,  "who  did  I  see  in  the 
distance  as  we  rode  up  V 

I  had  now  an  opportunity  of  coming  to  the  rescue ;  and 
not  waiting  for  Ella's  reply,  who  was  looking  indignantly  at 
the  question,  I  turned  to  her,  and  said : 

"  Let  me  advise  you  to  answer  nothing  which  is  so  unrea- 
sonably put.  As  for  Hubert,  I  believe  hunger  has  made  him 
arbitrary.     I  prescribe  a  hearty  breakfast  for  him  instanter." 

"That  will  I  have,"  said  Hubert;  "and  what  is  more,  my 
physician  is  invited  to  partake  of  the  meal.  Good-by.  It 
shall  be  ready  by  the  time  you  arrive  ;  that  is,  if  you  come 
with  Ella,  for  she  has  the  art  of  making  gentlemen  walk  very 
slowly  in  her  company."  So  saying,  he  mounted  his  horse 
and  galloped  rapidly  on. 

"Ella,"  said  I,  when  Hubert  had  left,  "let  us  become  bet- 
ter acquainted  forthwith ;  if  your  madcap  brother  is  in  the 
habit  of  teazing  you,  it  is  quite  necessary  that  you  have 
an  astute  champion." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  matter  with  Hubert  of  late," 
said  Ella;  "but  since- — that  is,  within  a  few  days,  he  takes 
occasion  to  criticise  every  word  I  say,  and  to  inveigh  against 
French  foppery,  as  if  I  were  better  pleased  with  it  than  any- 
thing  else :  then  he  accuses  me  of  being  affected,  and  I  do 
not  know  what  else." 

•An.l  know  you  of  any  reason  for  your  brother's  conduct?" 
1  Msk.d.  "Hubert  is  a  noble  fellow,  fond  of  fun,  to  be  sure, 
but  not  so  thoughtless  as  to  hurt  his  sister's  feelings  by  his 
nonsense.     Really,  Ella,  s  >mething  must  be  at  the  bottom  of 


SAINT  LEGER.  G3 

this;  that  is,  if  you  are  serious  in  what  you  say  of  him." 
"I  am  not  mistaken,  I  assure  you,"  replied  my  cousin; 
"  and  what  vexes  me  more  than  all  is,  that  instead  of  receiv- 
ing his  speeches  with  good  humor,  and  so  disarming  him,  1 
lose  my  temper  at  once.  Surely  I  am  changing  too ;  but 
Hubert  looks  at  me  so  sternly  when  he  speaks,  that  I  can  not 
help  it."  And  as  she  said  this  the  eyes  of  the  laughing,  light- 
hearted  girl  filled  with  tears.  I  saw  that  her  feelings  were 
touched ;  but  I  felt  convinced  that  she  could  account  for 
Hubert's  conduct  if  she  chose  to  do  so.  There  was  then 
something  which  she  wished  to  keep  back.  My  heart  beat 
quickly  but  with  steadiness  as  I  mused  upon  what  she  said, 
and  I  felt  that  I  was  taking  my  first  practical  lesson  in  the 
knowledge  of  woman's  nature.  Eager  was  I  to  learn  it,  for 
my  long  and  lonely  studies  had  sharpened  the  desire.  I 
paused  a  moment.  I  saw  Ella  would  not  speak  again,  and 
that  she  was  desirous  to  change  the  conversation.  Looking 
at  her  with  earnestness,  I  said  : 

"  If  you  are  serious  in  what  you  relate  of  Hubert,  let  me  warn 
you  to  do  him  no  injustice.  Are  you  not  conscious  of  giving 
him  some  occasion  for  his  conduct?  In  other  words,"  I  added 
more  playfully,  "do  you  not  teaze  him  as  much  as  he  teazes 
you  ?  Confess,  confess,  cousin,  before  I  ask  further  particulars." 

Ella  burst  into  one  of  her  merry  laughs,  which  almost  dis- 
armed me  of  my  suspicions. 

"Behold,"  cried  she,  "my  new  champion!  A  moment 
since,  ready  to  set  lance  in  rest  against  all  the  disturbers  of 
my  peace,  and  now  that  he  has  the  field  to  himself,  coercing 
his  'ladye  faire'  into  a  humiliating  confession." 

"  The  reason,  then,"  continued  I,  with  mock  gravity,  and 
without  noticing  this  last  sally,  "why  Hubert  teazes  Ella  is 
— because  Ella,  with  all  proper  perverseness,  will  laugh  and 
talk,  and  walk,  and  look  sentimental  whenever  she  pleases, 
and  as  much  as  she  chooses,  with " 


g4  SAINT  LEGER. 

"Count  Vautrey  !"  you  were  about  to  say,  interrupted  my 
cousin,  half  angrily,  and  with  a  slight  sparkle  of  her  fine  eyes; 
"  and  if  I  do,  is  Master  Hubert,  a  mere  boy,  to  dictate  to  me 
on  such  a  subject  V  And  the  little  beauty  beat  her  foot  upon 
the  ground  in  all  the  consciousness  of  offended  dignity. 

"Count  Vautrey!"  returned  I,  with  aifected  surprise;  "in- 
deed you  mistake  me  ;  I  was  going  to  name — the  young  laird 
of  Grlenross.  But  if  you  insist  that  it  is  Count  Vautrey,  I 
must  not  gainsay  it." 

An  impatient  "Pshaw  !"  rose  to  the  lips  of  my  cousin  as  I 
made  my  last  response  ;  but  her  good  nature  prevailed,  and 
she  replied  with  an  excellent  humor  : 

"  Since,  Cousin  William,  you  have  discovered  the  cause  of 
our  bickering,  I  will  frankly  tell  you  all  about  it.  About  a 
fortnight  since,  a  foreign-looking  personage  made  his  appear- 
ance at  Glencoe,  bringing  letters  to  the  earl,  my  father, 
which,  whatever  their  contents  may  be  (and  concerning  this  I 
have  never  presumed  to  inquire),  were  sufficient  to  insure 
for  him  the  hospitality  of  our  house.  He  was  presented  to 
the  family,  my  father  announcing  him  as  distantly  related  to 
us.  More  of  him  I  know  not;  although  Margaret,  who  knows 
everything,  can  tell  all  about  him,  I  believe  :  but  I  always 
tire  listening  to  her  genealogical  stories  ;  and  about  our  pres- 
ent guest  she  has  seemed  to  be  particularly  mysterious,  so  I 
have  purposely  avoided  making  any  inquiries.  Well,  Count 
Vautrey  remained.  My  father  and  mother  treated  him  from 
the  first  with  politeness.  Frank  has  done  the  same,  although 
he  seems  to  force  it  altogether.  Maggie  has  been  very  re- 
served and  very  dignified  whenever  the  count  approached;  and 
as  for  Hubert,  he  took  a  dislike  to  him  the  first  day  of  his  arri- 
val, for  no  other  reason,  I  believe,  than  because  Vautrey's 
servant  lamed  one  of  Hubert's  dogs  by  throwing  a  stone  at 
the  poor  creature,  out  of  pure  mischief.  Hubert  was  terri- 
bly  angry,   and  the  servant   would  have   received  a   severe 


SAINT  LEGEK.  (55 

punishment  had  not  Vautrey  appeared  and  interceded  for 
him.  But  he  did  it  so  haughtily,  treating  Hubert  so  like  a 
child,  that  it  only  turned  his  resentment  from  the  servant  upon 
Vautrey  himself.  Of  course  there  were  no  words  between 
them,  for  the  count  was  our  guest.  Well,  well ;  as  the  count 
had  apparently  fallen  into  disfavor  with  all  the  family,  and  as 
I  was  blessed  with  a  fair  share  of  benevolence  and  good  feel- 
ing, and  quite  a  lone  maiden  beside,  without  a  gallant  to  flat- 
ter or  offend  me,  I  could  not  help  commiserating  his  unpleas- 
ant situation,  and  so  concluded  to  be  civil  to  him.  He,  on 
the  other  hand,  seemed  determined  to  make  up  in  attention 
to  me  for  his  lack  of  general  courtesy.  So  affairs  have  con- 
tinued. Hubert  grows  daily  more  incensed  against  Vautrey  ; 
wherefore,  he  admits  he  can  not  tell ;  and  at  the  same  time 
more  out  of  humor  with  me.  If  the  count's  visit  results  in 
spoiling  Hubert's  temper,  and  my  own  along  with  his,  we. 
shall  certainly  have  occasion  to  remember  it." 

"And  do  you  like  the  count  ?  Is  he  then  so  agreeable,"  I 
inquired  seriously,  "that  you  prefer  vexing  your  brother  to 
giving  up  his  society,  or  rather  foregoing  this  intimacy  ?" 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?"  said  Ella;  "shall  I  yield 
to  the  foolish  humor  of  a  boy,  and  act  discourteously  to  a 
guest  who  claims  our  hospitality,  and  is  entitled  to  it  besides  ? 
Hubert  shall  not  teach  me  what  I  am  to  say,  and  what  not, 
when  I  am  to  walk  and  when  to  sit." 

"Pray,  Ella,  which  is  the  elder,  Hubert  or  yourself?"  was 
my  answer ;  "  and  tell  me  truly,  who  besides  yourself  calls 
him  a  boy?" 

The  young  girl  blushed  to  her  temples  at  my  last  question ; 
I  perceived  that  I  had  touched  a  sensitive  point ;  but  she  an- 
swered with  dignity  : 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  consider  me  on  trial  for  any  grievous 
offence ;  if  so,  I  shall  insist  upon  the  privilege  of  the  ao- 
cused,  and  refuse  to  answer  questions.     It  is  but  natural," 


66  SAINT  LEGER. 

Bhe  continued,   "that   Count  Vautrey  should    feel  Hubert's 
daily  conduct  toward  him,  and  if  he  alludes  to  it  when  talking 
with  me,  it  certainly  can  not  influence  a  sister  in  her  feelings 
•  i  a  dear  brother." 
"Are  you  sure  of  it?"  replied  I. 
"Sure  of  it,  Sir  Englishman." 

"  Then  am  I  content.  But  where  is  Vautrey,  and  why  did 
he  leave  you  so  suddenly?" 

Again  the  face  of  my  cousin  crimsoned ;  again  her  eye 
flashed ;  again  I  knew  that  all  was  not  told. 

"  William  Saint  Leger,  between  Hubert  and  yourself,  I 
shall  be  demented.  Pray  what  have  I  done  to  excite  your 
suspicions  !  "What  if  Count  Vautrey  had  been  walking  with 
me,  and  did  leave  me  when  you  approached,  or  if  you  please, 
because  you  approached  ?  Why  should  it  excite  your  won- 
der or  alarm,  and  why  should  you  catechise  me  so  closely? 
]>  it  courteous?     Is  it  fair?" 

"  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  my  dear  coz,  if  you  speak 
in  that  tone.  Not  a  word  more  shall  you  hear  from  me ;  but 
I  love  Hubert  as  a  brother ;  I  could,  nay  I  do,  love  you  as  a 
sister.  I  am  young,  younger  than  Hubert,  whom  you  call  a 
boy ;  but  here  throbs  a  heart  whose  restless  pulsations  beat 
with  a  manly  force.  Accuse  me  of  no  conceit  for  speaking  as 
I  do.  It  is  a  word  I  care  not  for.  I  did  but  think  that  happi- 
ness was  at  stake  between  you  two;   and " 

A  loud  shout  from  Hubert,  bidding  me  hasten  to  breakfast, 
as  lie  would  positively  wait  no  longer,  prevented  the  conclu- 
sion of  my  sentence.  I  was  glad  to  be  interrupted ;  I  felt 
that  farther  intercourse  would  be  awkward  and  unpleasant; 
so  leaving  unfinished  what  I  was  about  to  say,  I  replied  to 
Hubert  that  he  should  not  have  to  wait  a  moment,  and  hur- 
ried into  the  hall.  As  we  separated,  Ella  repeated  in  a  low 
but  distinct  tone  : 

"You  do  not  know  me,  Cousin  William." 


SAINT  LEGER.  q*j 


XIV. 


I  beg  the  reader,  who  has  followed  me  thus  far  in  my  nar- 
rative, not  to  be  impatient  at  this  record  of  minute  and  appa- 
rently unimportant  incidents  which  throw  around  it  more  of  the 
air  of  romance  than  of  fact.  I  have  before  intimated  the 
course  I  should  pursue ;  namely,  to  put  down  everything 
which  operated  upon  me  as  determining  influences  ;  and  who 
that  has  studied  his  own  heart,  and  the  several  changes  which 
come  over  the  spirit,  as  one  period  succeeds  another,  but 
must  acknowledge  how  trivial  are  the  circumstances  which 
from  time  to  time  control  our  destiny.  Again ;  if  the  men- 
tion of  the  fearful  apprehensions  which  oppressed  me,  of  the 
impending  doom  which  seemed  to  overhang  me,  and  of  my 
severe  religious  struggles,  should  appear  inconsistent  with 
the  enjoyment  of  the  stirring  sports  of  the  field,  with  the  rel- 
ish for  youthful  pastimes,  and  at  variance  with  those  feelings 
which  had  taken  strong  hold  upon  me,  which  youth  ever  pro- 
duces and  reproduces,  and  which  have  sentiment  for  then- 
source —  and  by  sentiment,  I  mean  that  peculiar  appreciation 
of  the  sex  in  man  which  nature  has  implanted,  and  which  so- 
ciety with  its  refinements  changes  into  almost  every  phase 
and  shade  of  feeling — if,  I  say,  there  seems  to  be  an  incon- 
sistency in  all  this,  I  can  only  reply,  "  The  record  is  true." 

It  is  true  —  true  to  the  life — to  myself.  And  I  appeal  to 
the  experience  of  every  thoughtful  man,  to  say  that  I  recount 
no  peculiar  history.  Bare  your  own  bosom ;  have  courage 
to  tell  the  truth  of  yourself;  confess  every  hypocrisy  and 
every  deceit;  every  secret  sin  and  every  error ;  publish  the 
inconsistency  of  a  lifetime ;  out  with  the   whole  "  damning- 


68  SAINT  LEGER. 

record  :"  and  then  say,  if  you  can,  that  I  have  drawn  a  fancy 
sketch. 

I  have  commenced  the  work.  I  will  go  on ;  I  speak  of 
vague  fears;  of  religious  superstition;  of  thoughts  of  God; 
of  serious  brain-tasking  study,  of  relish  for  hardy  exercises 
and  the  chase,  of  love  of  the  sex,  and  of  society  and  of  the 
world ;  nay,  of  everything  that  tortured  and  perplexed  my 
soul  and  made  me  what  I  was,  and  what  I  am,  and  what  I 
shall  for  ever  be.  Ha  ! — pause  one  moment  ere  we  go  on  to- 
gether: didst  thou  ever  think  that  what  thou  art  now,  per- 
chance thou  mayst  be  always  ?  Stop  !  catch  thy  shadow  up- 
on the  wall  and  mark  its  outline  ;  will  that  content  thee  for 
an  eternal  portraiture  ?  And  when  with  a  strong  brain,  a 
healthful  heart,  with  veins  full  of  the  best  blood  of  youth; 
thou  biddest  defiance  to  the  arch  destroyer,  and  dost  wel- 
come every  enjoyment  of  sense,  every  gratification  which  the 
world  can  bring — Death  grins  a  more  ghastly  smile  at  thy  de- 
lusion !  Satan  himself  smiles  complacently  on  thy  fancied 
strength,  and  fain  would  spare  thee  a  few  more  years  of  life, 
for  more  certain  would  be  thy  endless  destiny. 

XV. 

"You  do  not  know  me,  Cousin  William !"  The  words 
rung  in  my  ear.  They  were  delicious  sounds  to  me ;  they 
intimated  a  growing  confidence,  and  they  told  of  heart.  I  was 
thrown  into  the  society  of  two  beautiful  females ;  one,  just 
my  own  a^e,  and  the  attractive  graces  of  the  girl  just  ripen- 
ing into  womanhood.  While  I,  a  boy  in  years,  felt  a  spirit 
and  intellect  beyond  those  years.  I  had  no  thought  for  my 
cousin  which  a  relative  might  not  confess.  I  only  sought 
her  confidence  and  sympathy  ;  the  sympathy  of  a  softer,  gentler 
being  than  man ;  yet  a  sympathy  different  from  a  mother's 


SAINT  LEGER.  69 

feelings.  I  thought  again  of  Vautrey.  There  was  something 
in  him  that  excited  almost  my  detestation ;  something  which 
made  my  blood  turn,  as  it  might,  from  sudden  contact  with  a 
serpent.  And  the  idea  that  he  should  so  far  insinuate  him- 
self into  favor  with  Ella,  as  to  be  privileged  to  walk  by  her 
side  and  whisper  confidentially  in  her  ear,  was  to  me  horrible. 
I  believed  there  was  danger  in  such  intimacy.  .  I  felt  that  I 
knew  my  man.  An  instinctive  aversion  could  not  deceive  me, 
for  it  never  had.  I  determined  to  warn  my  cousin,  but  what 
reason  could  I  give  for  my  prejudices,  as  they  would  be  call- 
ed ;  beside  I  had  said  enough  to  put  her  on  her  guard,  and 
anything  further  might  be'  misconstrued.  Moreover,  I  did 
not  believe  that  her  own  good  sense  could  be  entirely  over- 
come, although  I  knew  that  Vautrey  employed  the  most  re- 
sistless of  all  weapons  with  which  woman  is  assailed — flat- 
tery. I  resolved,  therefore,  to  watch  and  wait ;  I  resolved, ' 
besides,  that  nothing  should  induce  me  to  quarrel  with  Vaut- 
rey, so  long  as  I  could  possibly  avoid  it. 

XVI. 

The  time  passed  delightfully  at  Glencoe.  Week  succeed- 
ed week  until  midsummer  had  come.  We  rode  and  hunted, 
shot  at  target,  and  played  at  the  sword  exercise ;  made  ex- 
cursions of  two  or  three  days  into  the  highlands ;  lodged  out 
among  the  forests,  and  drank  of  the  pure  breath  of  heaven 
from  the  summits  of  the  everlasting  hills.  In  the  mure  ardu- 
ons  excursions,  Hubert  and  myself  went  alone.  At  times, 
Frank  and  Margaret  joined  us.  Ella  but  rarely,  and  Vautrey 
never.  His  countenance  wore  the  same  ironical,  heartless 
smile  whenever  we  met,  or  exchanged  the  courtesies  of  the 
day ;  he  had  some  excuse  for  declining  every  invitation ;  he 
occupied  himself  with  an  occasional   stroll  into  the  woods, 


70  SAINT  LKGER. 

where  his  servant  accompanied  him,  or  he  would  sit  with  Ella 
in  the  drawing-room,  telling-  her  tales  of  foreign  tiavel,  and 
discoursing  of  the  pleasures  of  a  life  spent  under  an  Italian 
sun.  Since  the  conversation  between  us,  on  the  day  succeed- 
ing my  arrival,  she  had  carefully  avoided  any  recurrence  to 
the  topic.  This  was  singular,  after  what  had  passed.  I  felt 
chagrined  j  I  accused  her  of  fickleness,  but  I  had  too  much 
pride  to  say  anything  to  her.  We  continued  the  best  of 
friends ;  but  there  was  no  confidence  between  us ;  and  while 
she  seemed  frank  and  open,  I  felt  that  she  was  not  so.  Still, 
what  I  had  said  was  not  lost  upon  her.  She  had  a  strong 
mind,  as  I  have  remarked,  although  vulnerable  at  certain 
points.  I  knew  the  part  that  Vautrey  was  playing.  I  knew 
that  he  reported  us  as  engaged  in  juvenile  occupations,  wor- 
thy of  children  only ;  that  he  attempted  to  act  the  man  and 
the  admirer,  throwing  around  his  character  that  appearance 
of  mvstery  which  always  charms  the  sex.  He  spoke  French 
and  Italian  fluently,  which  he  offered  to  teach  to  Ella.  How 
I  began  to  hate  him,  that  Vautrey  !  Hubert  had  managed 
very  well  to  restrain  his  impatient  temper,  but  daily  he  had 
to  encounter  new  trials. 

The  earl  of  Venachoir  was  obliged  to  leave  for  Edinburgh, 
and  his  absence  removed  the  natural  restraint  his  presence 
produced.  Public  business  of  urgency  took  him  to  the  cap- 
ital. He  had  a  confidential  conversation  with  his  eldest  son 
before  he  left,  and  giving  us  all  a  good-humored  charge  to 
demean  ourselves  properly  in  his  absence,  he  departed. 

The  departure  of  the  earl  was  an  evident  relief  to  Vautrey. 
In  his  presence  only  the  latter  could  not  maintain  his  sardonic 
character.  Although  the  countess  remained  behind,  and  none 
knew  better  than  she  how  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  her  sta- 
tion, yet  she  could  not  from  her  position,  exert  the  same  re- 
straining influence  for  which  her  lord  was  remarkable.     Be- 


SAINT  LEGER.  71 

fore  this,  intercourse  had  come  nearly  to  an  end  between 
Vautrey  and  Hubert,  and  the  feelings  of  both  were  much 
embittered ;  the  more  so,  because  there  had  been  thus  far  no 
vent  allowed  to  them.  Vautrey  in  everything  treated  Hubert 
as  a  child.  He  would  show  him  marked  respect,  or  disre- 
gard him,  or,  on  occasion,  yield  to  him  as  one  would  to  an  in- 
ferior, carefully  abstaining  from  direct  offence,  which  made 
such  a  course  the  more  unbearable.  Toward  me,  Vautrey 
pursued  a  similar  plan,  at  times  treating  me  with  an  air  of 
pretended  deference,  when  he  thought  nothing  else  would 
carry  him  out.  I  had  learned  to  look  upon  him  as  something 
beneath  me  ;  and  I  resolved  to  bear  myself  toward  him  with 
calmness  and  dignity:  my  chief  care  was  to  avoid  intercourse 
with  him.  Hubert,  though  one  year  my  senior,  was  much  the 
younger  in  those  feelings  which  the  man  alone  acquires,  and 
could  not  curb  his  impatient  spirit.  Several  times  he  resolved 
to  quarrel  with  the  count,  when  Frank  and  myself  restrained 
him.  Ella's  conduct  toward  her  brother  had  not  improved, 
and  she  continued  to  walk  and  talk  with  Vautrey,  although  I 
believed  that  my  conversation  had  not  been  forgotten.  Young, 
impetuous,  gay,  and  full  of  spirits,  and  full,  too,  of  that  deep 
romance  of  which  poets  love  so  much  to  write,  I  felt,  be- 
cause something  instinctively  whispered  it  to  me — for  where 
had  I  gained  experience  ]  —  that  if  she  ever  loved,  she  would 
stake  her  existence,  her  happiness  here,  and  her  hope  of  hap- 
piness hereafter,  upon  her  love.  I  did  not  believe  that  Vaut- 
rey could  compass  this,  but  I  feared.  I  gave  him  credit  for 
more  than  he  chose  to  exhibit.  His  education  was  highly  ac- 
complished ;  his  mind  well  stored  with  the  lighter  literature ; 
he  had  an  ear  for  music,  a  fine  voice,  and  the  power  of  seem- 
ing to  feel  when  his  feelings  should  be  touched.  He  was  in- 
sinuating and  designing;  a  flatterer,  who  knew  well  when 
and  how  to  act  his  part.     I  gathered  thus  much  of  Vautrey's 


72  SAINT  LEGER. 

character  from  close  observation  of  him  when  in  Ella's  soci- 
ety. Indeed,  no  one  seemed  to  know  him.  Was  I  not  right 
then,  in  believing  him  to  be  a  most  dangerous  person  to  as- 
sociate with  an  innocent  and  unsuspecting  girl  1  He  was  heart- 
less, crafty,  without  feeling,  subtle,  and  remorseless  ;  one  who 
could  smile  on  the  desolation  which  he  had  himself  produced  : 
to  whom  the  world  was  nothing,  save  as  a  minister  to  his  ends. 
And  yet  I  could  not  perceive  that  he  had  any  ends  in  view,  or 
that  he  acted  from  any  motive.  He  would  have  made  a  perfect 
hater,  but  his  was  rather  the  character  of  the  mocker  and  de- 
spiser  ;  one  who  sneered  at  everything,  at  goodness  and  at 
vice,  at  the  pure  enjoyments  of  the  innocent,  and  the  unhal- 
lowed pleasures  of  the  vile.  He  affected  to  be  beyond  the 
reach  of  accident  and  of  circumstance,  of  misfortune  or  of 
favor,  and  cared  not  for  censure  or  praise.  I  say  he  affected 
all  this ;  for  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  believe  him  quite  a 
devil.  I  gave  him  credit  for  assuming  the  peculiar  attributes  of 
the  fiend,  reserving  my  opinion  as  to  any  characteristics  he 
might  claim,  savoring  of  the  human. 

Not  content  with  studying  Vautrey's  character,  I  appli- 
ed to  Margaret  for  information  regarding  him.  With  her 
[  had  become  more  and  more  pleased,  as  our  daily  intercourse 
elicited  the  higher  traits  of  her  character.  Her  native  dignity 
of  manner  was  so  beautifully  adorned  with  a  genuine  benev- 
olence, that  I  both  respected  and  loved  her.  What  wonder 
then  that  she  had  won  much  upon  my  confidence,  especially 
as  she  sympathized  in  all  my  purposes  and  plans,  and  seemed 
interested  in  my  future.  Yet  in  my  intercourse  with  Mar- 
garet, there  was  none  of  that  super-sentiment  which  invests 
woman  with  unreal  attributes.  She  was  agreeable,  particular- 
ly so,  she  could  appreciate  the  finer  feelings,  and  understood  ev- 
ery truthful  emotion  of  the  soul ;  nevertheless  she  was  matter- 
of-fact,  and  dealt  with  these  feelings  and  emotions  as  one 


SAINT  LEGER. 


73 


would  deal  with  a  truth  in  natural  philosophy,  or  a  fact  in 
history.  They  were  analyzed  and  examined,  and  commented 
upon,  until  the  gossamer  texture  in  which  they  were  woven 
was  entirely  dissolved,  and  nothing  remained  of  the  fanciful 
drapery  but  a  few  practical  remnants.  My  cousin  was  un- 
conscious of  the  ruin  she  caused.  She  did  not  understand 
that  she  could  express  sympathy  and  yet  give  pain  while  she 
sympathized.  I  observed  this  almost  daily  in  her  intercourse 
with  Ella  ;  and  almost  daily  would  poor  Ella  exclaim, 
"  Margaret  can  not  understand  me."  Yet  Margaret  did  un- 
derstand her  sister,  but  each  attached  importance  to  different 
objects.  To  me,  the  former  was  a  delightful  companion  :  but 
I  was  careful,  when  I  did  soar  in  fancy  to  a  wild  world  of  my 
own  creation,  to  remain  its  sole  occupant.  There  can  be  no 
participation  in  the  deep  romantic,  even  with  a  kindred  spirit. 
Into  these  high  and  inscrutable  paths  the  soul  must  enter 
alone  —  as  it  must  alone  pass  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death.  They  admit  of  no  companion — no  confidant.  As 
our  appreciation  of  the  sublime  is  lessened  by  the  presence 
of  another — for  the  soul  to  be  greatly  impressed  must  be 
solitary  —  so  the  enjoyment  of  the  deep  romantic  must  be  a 
solitary  enjoyment,  for  the  presence  even  of  a  loved  one  dis- 
tracts and  divides  the  feelings,  and  prevents  the  highest  con- 
centration. I  hope  I  may  not  be  misunderstood.  I  who  speak, 
could  love ;  and  not  a  thought,  not  a  feeling,  would  I  keep 
from  my  chosen  one.  But  when  I  should  summon  the  deep 
emotions  which  well  up  from  the  hidden  springs — when  I 
should  survey  my  never-ending  destiny,  and  thank  my  Gnu 
that  it  was  linked  with  hers,  and  pause  and  dwell  upon  I  he 
mysterious  relation  which  unites  two  hearts,  and  calculate  its 
effect  upon  all  time  and  all  eternity — in  those  solemn  moments, 
T  would  be  alone.  How  would  I  delight  afterward  to  recount 
all  that  I  had  felt  to  her,  and  bless  her  as  the  inspiring  cause  of  all ! 


7  t  SAINT  LEGEF 


XVII. 


As  I  have  remarked,  I  took  occasion  at  a  fitting  opportunity 
to  speak  to  Margaret  of  Vautrey.  "  Cousin  William,"  she 
said,  "  I  dislike  the  theme  you  have  chosen,  but  that  is 
no  reason  why  your  question  should  not  be  answered.  You 
must  have  patience  with  me  if  I  go  back  a  century.  Your 
grandfather,  Hugh  Saint  Leger,  had  a  younger  brother,  Wil- 
fred ;  he  was  a  wild  and  headstrong  youth,  impatient  of  whole- 
some restraint,  refusing  all  control.  He  did  not  possess  a  bad 
heart,  but  his  violent  and  ungovernable  temper  always  led  him 
into  difficulty.  In  consequence  of  disagreement  with  his 
father,  he  left  his  home  when  he  was  twenty,  and  fled  to  Scot- 
land. He  there  became  acquainted  with  Julian  Moncrieff, 
cousin  to  my  grandfather,  the  old  Earl  of  Venachoir,  who 
had  been  brought  up  at  Glencoe,  and  passed  most  of  his  time 
there.  This  Julian  was  no  fit  companion  for  Saint  Leger.  He 
was  three  years  his  senior,  was  most  tyrannical  in  disposition, 
yet  subservient  in  his  manner  where  he  desired  to  make  an 
impression.  In  person  he  was  elegant.  His  features  were 
regular  and  handsome,  and  were  it  not  for  the  dark  smile 
which  played  around  them,  a  stranger  would  have  discovered 
!  in  his  appearance  to  indicate  his  true  character,  which 
in  a  word  comprised  all  that  was  fiend-like  and  malignant. 
Dissatisfied  with  his  own  position,  jealous  of  his  cousin's 
rank  and  title,  yet  too  crafty  to  quarrel  with  him,  he 
remained  at  the  castle  as  a  near  ally  to  the  house,  professing 
faithful  adherence  to  the  earl.  His  intrigues  the  while  were 
remarkable.  He  was  the  cause  of  many  a  bloody  feud  be- 
tween the  highland  clans,  who  were  then  open  to  the  least 


SAINT  LEGER.  75 

occasion- for  a  rupture.  To  the  ear!  he  was  the  source  of 
constant  uneasiness.  The  former  would  gladly  have  found  a 
pretext  for  getting  rid  of  so  troublesome  an  adherent,  but 
nothing  could  ever  be  proved  against  him.  Only  satisfied 
when  causing  all  the  mischief  in  his  power,  he  took  good 
care  not  to  appear  himself  as  its  author.  Before  he  reached 
five-and-twenty,  he  became  extensively  known,  dreaded,  and 
hated. 

"Just  at  this  time,  Wilfred  Saint  Leger  appeared  at  Invera- 
ry,  and  Julian  Moncrieff  made  his  acquaintance.  Strange  to 
say,  an  intimacy  sprang  up  between  them.  I  can  not  account 
for  such  a  connection.  It  is  probable  that  Julian  saw,  in  the 
hasty  and  uncontrollable  spirit  of  the  Saint  Leger,  fit  matter  to 
serve  his  own  plans  and  intrigues,  and  in  the  youth  himself  a 
ready  (though  unwitting)  instrument  of  their  accomplishment. 
Wilfred  was  brought  to  Glencoe,  where  he  was  made  wel- 
come, without  question  or  ceremony.  The  two  young  men 
at  length  grew  dissatisfied  with  the  narrow  range  of  the 
highlands,  and  planned  to  leave  the  country  together ;  but 
before  this,  Wilfred  Saint  Leger  had  made  an  indelible  impres- 
sion upon  the  heart  of  the  beautiful  Isabella  Seward,  a  young 
ward  and  relative  of  the  Eai'l  of  Venachoir,  an  innocent,  con- 
fiding girl,  to  whom  the  young  Englishman  confessed  a  pow- 
erful passion.  I  pass  over  particulars.  Moncrieff"  and  Saint 
Leger  left  G-lencoe  together.  A  few  days  after  their  depar- 
ture, Isabella  not  appearing  at  the  breakfast  table,  a  servant  was 
despatched  to  her  apartment,  and  found  it  vacant.  She  had 
fled  to  join  her  youthful  lover,  and  soon  the  seas  separated  her 
from  her  home.  The  earl,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  deeply 
incensed  at  this  gross  violation  of  the  privileges  of  hospitality ; 
but  the  fugitives  were  beyond  his  reach,  and  his  anger  was 
unavailing.  Arrived  h.  Paris,  the  friends  of  Saint  Leger' s  fam- 
ily, who  were  among  the  nobles  of  France,  came  forward  and 
received  Wilfred  and  his  bride  into  their  society.     This  was 


76  SAINT  LEGER. 

done  no  doubt  through  the  influence  of  his  father,  who,  al- 
though he  refused  all  communication  with  his  undutiful  son, 
felt  a  parental  anxiety  in  his  career,  and  had,  without  his 
knowledge,  bespoke  for  him  the  favor  of  his  friends  abroad. 
For  a  season,  everything  passed  off  happily,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  the  young  Saint  Leger  was  about  to  redeem  his  character, 
and  become  worthy  of  his  race.  Julian  Moncrieff,  in  the  mean- 
time, had  been  absent  from  Paris,  and  he  was  left  free  from 
his  pernicious  influence.  After  the  lapse  of  nearly  a  twelve- 
month, Julian  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  young  and  beau- 
tiful bride.  She  was  an  Italian,  and  possessed  all  the  warmth 
of  feeling,  all  the  passion,  all  the  imaginative  fancy,  which  the 
soft  sun  of  Italy  gives  to  those  who  dwell  under  its  influence. 
The  return  of  Julian  was  an  unhappy  circumstance  for  Wil- 
fred Saint  Leger.  The  effect  was  at  once  perceptible  and  most 
lamentable.  He  began  to  neglect  his  wife,  and  report  whisper- 
ed that  he  was  seen  too  often  in  company  with  the  wife  of 
Moncrieff.  If  this  was  the  case,  it  was  passed  unnoticed  by 
Julian.  Time  rolled  away.  The  story  is  a  long  one ;  it  is 
the  record  of  unfaithfulness  on  the  part  of  man  toward  woman, 
who  clings  to  and  loves  him;  of  infidelity  on  the  part  of  a 
passionate  woman  toward  a  husband  who  loved  her  not ;  of 
bitter  jealousy  and  of  broken  hearts ;  of  quarrels  between 
friends ;  of  strife  unto  blood ;  of  a  too  late  repentance ;  and 
of  death.  I  will  not  go  over  the  history  ;  some  other  time 
you  may  learn  it  all. 

"  Julian  Moncrieff  had  one  child,  a  daughter.  That  daugh- 
ter lived,  grew  up  to  womanhood,  and  married  Henri  Laurent 
de  Vautrey,  the  father  of  the  individual  of  whom  you  question 
me.  At  present  I  can  tell  you  nothing  more;  you  have  heard 
enough,  I  am  sure,  for  one  sitting,  and  Hubert  has  been  in- 
quiring after  you  half  a  dozen  times  since  I  commenced.  Let 
us  go  and  find  him." 


SAINT  LEGER. 


77 


XVIII. 

My  cousin  arose ;  while  I  was  half  stupified  at  her  rapid  nar- 
ration, which  although  entirely  new  to  me,  did  not  appear  un- 
familiar. But  there  was  no  room  for  farther  remark,  and  as 
Hubert  was  not  within  call,  I  left  Margaret  and  proceeded 
toward  the  old  tower,  a  spot  where  the  young  men  staying  at 
the  castle  usually  congregated  when  nothing  more  agreeable 
called  them  elsewhere.  Here  they  were  accustomed  to  jump, 
leap,  pitch  the  bar,  wrestle,  fence,  and  go  through  every  spe- 
cies of  gymnastic  exercise.  On  the  present  occasion  there 
were  assembled  several  young  men,  friends  of  the  Moncrieffs, 
and  the  sport  went  on  with  great  spirit.  A  young  highland 
laird  seemed  about  to  carry  the  day  with  the  bar,  which  at 
the  last  throw  had  fallen  full  a  foot  beyond  Hubert's  cast, 
though  the  latter  was  not  willing  to  yield  without  another  trial. 
At  this  moment,  Vautrey  was  observed  emerging  from  a  thick 
copse,  and  coming  toward  the  old  tower  on  his  way  to  the 
castle  followed  by  his  servant.  As  he  passed  the  spot,  he 
cast  toward  us  one  of  his  most  contemptuous  looks.  In  so 
doing,  his  eyes  rested  a  moment  on  Hubert,  who,  nettled  per- 
haps at  his  late  failure,  was  more  ready  to  take  offence  than 
usual :  "  You  are  particularly  gracious  this  morning,  count," 
cried  Hubert ;  "I  feel  flattered  by  such  a  mark  of,  I  may  say, 
royal  favor,  that  you  should  deign  to  pass  so  near  us.  Per- 
haps you  will  condescend  still  further,  and  consent  to  take 
your  turn  at  the  bar." 

"  When  I  try  my  strength,  I  prefer  to  select  the  place  and 
opportunity ;  and  then  my  antagonists  must  be  men,"  replied 
Vautrey,  slowly. 


78 


SAINT  LEGER. 


"  Now  by  the  best  blood  that  ever  ran  m  your  veins,  or  in 
any  of  your  race,  I  will  not  bear  such  insolence  !"  said  Hubert. 
"  Count  Vautrey,  what  mean  you  by  saying  that  your  antag- 
onists must  be  men?" 

Simply,  that  in  age,  in  temper,  and  in  character,  you  are 
a  boy,  if  you  must  know,"  retorted  the  other,  coolly. 

No  more  of  this  to  me,  count !"  said  Hubert,  in  a  changed 
tone,  and  with  a  great  deal  of  dignity.  "  I  have  borne  with 
you  too  long  already,  and  were  you  twenty  times  the  guest 
of  my  father,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  call  you  to  an  account." 
"Well,  what  do  you  wish?"  asked  Vautrey,  in  an  affected 
tone. 

"  Wish !"  sternly  demanded  Hubert.  "  Wish  1  I  wish  for 
satisfaction  for  repeated  insults ;  and  after  that  is  afforded,  I 
desire  that  you  would  rid  my  father's  house  of  your  detestable 
presence." 

"  To  the  former,  I  suppose,  there  may  be  no  objections," 
said  Vautrey ;  "  the  latter  may  be  more  difficult  of  accom- 
plishment." 

Frank  now  came  forward,  and  taking  his  brother  by  the 
arm,  endeavored  to  appease  him. 

"  Do  not,"  he  said,  "  forget  the  count's  position  with  us. 
Bear  with  him,  therefore,  for  that  reason,  if  for  no  other. 
Count  Vautrey,  I  appeal  to  you,"  continued  Frank,  "not  to 
put  my  brother  in  a  situation  where  his  feelings  as  a  man  con- 
flict with  the  conduct  due  to  a  guest  under  our  roof.  In  the 
absence  of  my  father,  I  control ;  and  there  must  be  no  strife 
between  you." 

"  Who  was  the  aggressor  1"  replied  Vautrey,  sneeringly. 
"  I  do  not  meddle  with  the  young  man,  but  he  must  keep 
clear  of  my  path,  that's  all."  So  saying,  he  turned  and  went 
his  way. 

"Brother,"  said  Frank,  "you  have  been  over-hasty  in  this 
matter.     I  regret  it.     Do,  I  beg  of  you,  make  amends  by  a 


SAINT  LEGER.  79 

considerate  forbearance.  Let  us  have  no  brawls  while  the 
ear]  is  absent." 

"  Be  it  so,"  answered  Hubert,  deliberately.  "  You  are  in 
the  right.  But  we  must  not  meet.  My  friends,"  he  contin- 
ued, addressing  the  young  men  near  him,  "  which  of  you  will 
call  me  your  guest  for  a  few  days,  and  thus  relieve  me  from 
this  dilemma?" 

There  was  a  most  hearty  response  to  this  appeal  from  the 
lips  of  every  one  present ;  but  the  young  Highland  laird,  who 
had  come  oft*  conqueror  in  the  last  trial  of  strength,  insisted 
on  his  right  to  a  preference. 

"  Moncrieff,"  said  he,  "  it  is  no  weary  way  to  Kilchurn 
Castle,  and  't  is  mony  a  day  sin'  the  banks  of  Loch  Awe  ha' 

seen   us  in  company;  and  —  and my  bluid  is  up,  and  I 

canna  say  more.  I  ken  your  position,  my  lad,  but  ye  shall 
na  be  bearded  in  your  ain  castle,  your  hands  tied  the  while', 
and  your  true  friends  ganging  their'  ain  gait  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  By  the  tartan  I  wear,  na'ne  shall  control  me, 
and  I'll  question  nabody  of  what  I'll  do  ;  so  you  will  gang 
with  me  V 

"This  instant,  Glen!"  cried  Hubert;  "here  is  my  hand 
on  it ;  only  let  it  suffice  that  I  become  your  guest ;  forget  the 
cause,  together  with  the  prime  mover  in  this  matter,"  added 
he,  fearing  from  what  the  young  laird  said  that  he  intended 
to  take  up  his  quarrel :  "  come,  let  us  mount  directly." 

"  Stay  but  a  moment,"  answered  Glenfinglas,  for  that  was 
his  name,  (called  familiarly  by  his  companions  "  Glen"),  "  I 
have  a  little  business  at  the  castle,  but  I'll  soon  join  ye." 

"Follow  him,  Hubert,"  said  Frank,  "  and  prevent  farther 
scandal  in  the  absence  of  our  father." 

"  It  is  of  no  use,  Frank,"  said  his  brother.  "  You  may  try 
your  hand  if  you  like ;  but  Glen,  with   a   generous,  honest 


80  .SAINT  LEGER. 

heart,  is  as  obstinate  as  a  goat.  You  can  do  nothing  with 
him.     I  would  rather  undertake  the  count." 

"  That  will  I  never  do  1"  said  Frank,  sternly,  and  in  a  tone 
which  surprised  us.  "  It  is  enough  that  I  have  interfered  as 
my  father's  representative,  when  interference  was  a  duty.  I 
would  still  preserve  peace,  but  not  by  asking  a  favor  from  him." 

"  That  may  I,  nevertheless,"  said  I,  "  and  without  dishonor." 
For  I  felt  alarmed  at  the  turn  affairs  were  taking,  not  that  I 
cared  for  Vautrey,  but  I  apprehended  danger  in  some  way  to 
the  honest-hearted  fellow  who  had  so  promptly  stepped  for- 
ward to  cover  a  friend's  insult.  So  leaving  the  group  —  Glen- 
finglas  had  previously  departed — I  directed  my  steps  toward 
the  quarter  where  Vautrey  was  last  seen,  thinking  that  he 
might  not  have  entered  the  castle,  in  which  case  I  should  meet 
him  before  the  former  would  arrive. 

I  was  not  mistaken.  Among  a  clump  of  trees,  in  the  rear 
of  the  castle,  T  discovered  the  count  in  close  conference  with 
his  servant.  The  conversation  was  carried  on  in  a  low  tone, 
but  was  rather  animated,  at  least  on  the  part  of  the  latter. 
Disliking  to  appear  as  having  stolen  upon  them  unawares,  I 
put  myself  in  view  as  soon  as  possble.  As  I  came  up,  the 
servant  disappeared.  Vautrey  regarded  me  for  a  moment 
with  surprise,  but  quickly  regaining  his  ordinary  sardonic 
manner,  bowed  stiffly,  and  looked  as  if  he  would  ask,  "  Well, 
what  is  coming  now  V     I  spoke  at  once  : 

"  Count  Vautrey,"  said  I,  "  we  do  not  profess  to  be  friends ; 
indeed,  we  are  not ;  but  I  have  taken  almost  a  friend's  liberty 
in  saying  to  you  in  a  word,  that  a  young  laird,  by  name  Glen- 
finglas,  angered  at  what  he  considers  an  insult  from  you  :u 
Hubert  Moncrieff,  is  determined  to  seek  you  and  make  it  a 
cause  of  quarrel.  I  have  come,  unrequested  by  any  person, 
to  desfre  that,  while  you  remain  at  Glencoe,  you  will  avoid 
any  encounter  with  him.  This  is  all  I  would  say  to  Count 
Vautrey." 


SAINT  LEGER. 


81 


While  I  was  speaking,  I  could  not  discover  that  Vautrey's 
countenance  changed  a  muscle.  One  of  his  habitual  sneers 
played  over  his  face,  as  I  concluded,  and  then  he  asked  : 

"  May  I  inquire  the  reason  of  Mr.  Saint  Leger's  solicitude 
in  such  an  affair?" 

"  Because,"  I  replied,  "  under  the  circumstances,  it  would 
prove  particularly  disagreeable  to  the  Earl  of  Venachoir,  now 
absent,  as  well  as  to  every  member  of  his  family." 

"And  is  that  all  V  said  Vautrey. 

"  Plainly,  no,"  continued  I,  deliberately.  "  In  the  event  of 
an  encounter,  I  fear,  for  the  honest-hearted  Glenfinglas,  your 
superior  skill  and  experience  in  the  use  of  deadly  weapons." 

A  grim  smile  played  across  Vautrey's  features,  showing 
that  he  acknowledged  this  doubtful  compliment,  while  my 
avowed  anxiety  for  the  young  laird  carried  with  it  such  an 
indifference  toward  himself  that  it  filled  his  bosom  with  rage.- 

"  Boy !"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  have  come  on  a  simple  er- 
rand ;  simple  every  way.  I  am  no  brawler.  I  seek  not  to 
quarrel  on  slight  occasion,  much  less  would  I  bicker  with 
children.  But  let  them  beware  how  they  put  themselves  in 
my  way.  I  shall  not  turn  aside;  they  must  —  or  be  gored. 
And,  William  Henry  Saint  Leger,"  added  Vautrey,  coming 
close  up  to  me,  and  speaking  between  his  teeth,  "  you  who  as- 
sume to  be  more  than  the  child  you  are,  know  that  henceforth 
I  will  take  you  for  what  you  wish  to  be  considered — a  man. 
You  said  that  we  were  not  friends.  I  say  more  than  that.  I 
tell  you  something  you  will  have  cause  to  remember  your 
whole  lifetime  ;  therefore  forget  it  not :     We  are  enemies  !" 

"  Fool  !"  replied  T,  indignantly  ;  "  you  forget  that  you  are 
not  practising  a  part  to  overawe  some  thick-skulled  clown,  or 
to  astonish  a  young  girl,  grown  romantic  but  not  sensible. 
Bring  your  wares  to  a  market  where  they  will  serve  you." 

At  this  instant,  and  before  Vautrey  had  an  opportunity  to 
6 


82  SAINT  LEGER. 

reply,  Glenfinglas  came  up,  and  in  considerable  haste,  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Now,  Saint  Leger,  if  you  anticipate  me,  it  will  ria  be  the 
handsome  thing.  Count  Vautrey,  I  ha'  the  honor  to  wish 
your  lordship  gude  morning,  and  to  say,  sin'  my  young  friend 
Hubert  Moncrieff,  is  not  at  liberty  to  answer  you  as  he  would, 
I  claim  the  privilege  of  standing  in  his  place." 

"  You  may  stand  where  it  pleases  you,  sir,"  retorted  Vaut- 
rey, sneeringly,  "  so  long  as  you  stand  not  in  my  light." 

"  Na,  na,  count ;  you  canna  misunderstand  me,  and  you 
shall  na.  I  ask  satisfaction  of  ye  for  the  insult  which  ye  ha' 
given  to  Hubert,     I  ask  it,  and  ye  shall  grant  it." 

"  Children,  all  of  you  !"  said  Vautrey,  impatiently,  using 
his  favorite  term  of  opprobrium ;  "  I  have  no  cause  for  dead- 
ly quarrel  with  Hubert  Moncrieff,  and  you  I  know  not  except 
as  a  stranger  ;  therefore  beware  how  you  put  me  at  bay." 

Thus  spoke  Vautrey,  evidently  vexed  at  the  serious  com- 
plexion matters  were  taking.  He  was  doubtless  astonished 
at  Hubert's  sudden  outbreak.  Knowing  that  he  had  borne 
so  much,  he  had  mistaken  his  character,  and  treated  him  real- 
ly like  a  child.  He  gave  Hubert  no  credit  for  the  considera- 
tion which  he  really  possessed,  and  he  was  consequently  the 
more  vexed  by  the  incident  at  the  old  tower,  which  certainly 
took  him  by  surprise  ;  although  his  imperturbable  indiffer- 
ence of  manner  had  brought  him  thus  far  out  of  the  difficulty. 
But  here  was  a  new  obstacle,  in  the  shape  of  the  honest  and 
determined,  not  to  say  obstinate  Glenfinglas.  Although  too 
scornful  to  admit  it,  Vautrey  was  nevertheless  desirous  to  get 
off  without  further  quarrel  with  the  laird.  The  latter,  on  the 
other  hand,  began  to  mistake  the  character  of  Vautrey.  In- 
censed at  his  insulting  manner,  he  was  ready  to  charge  his 
desire  to  avoid  a  rencontre  to  a  lack  of  courage.  He 
changed  his  tone  somewhat,  as  Vautrey  concluded  his  last 
sentence,  and  said  : 


SA-INT    LEGE] 


83 


"I  dinna  understand  such  excuses,  count.  In  the  high- 
lands they  do  not  pass  for  ready  siller.  In  a  word,  will  ye 
gi'e  me  the  honorable  satisfaction  I  demand,  standing  in  the 
place  and  stead  of  Hubert  Moncrieff,  or  will  ye  not  ?" 

"  I  recognise  no  right  which  you  claim  to  represent  young 
Moncrieff,  and  it  will  be  time  enough  to  answer  you  further 
when  I  am  satisfied  of  it.  I  shall  not  say  more  at  present:" 
and  with  this,  Vautrey  turned  to  depart. 

Glenfinglas,  doubly  incensed  by  this  response,  stepped 
toward  him,  and  laying  his  hand  lightly  upon  his  shoulder, 
said,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"I  did  na  think  Count 'Vautrey  was  a  coward!" 

Rapid  as  lightning,  Vautrey  drew  his  dagger,  which  was 
concealed  under  the  folds  of  his  vest ;  rapid  as  lightning,  and 
almost  before  Glenfinglas  had  uttered  the  last  word,  did  the 
blade  descend  into  his  breast,  and  he  fell  at  full  length,  car- 
ried down  by  the  force  of  the  blow. 

Astounded  as  I  was  by  the  suddenness  of  the  action,  I 
sprang  forward,  and  bent  down  over  the  prostrate  youth.  At 
the  same  moment  Vautrey  coolly  drew  his  weapon  from  the 
wound. 

"An  escape,  after  all!"  he  muttered;  "my  hand  is  out. 
Six  months  ago  my  weapon  would  not  have  served  me  thus." 
Turning  to  me,  he  added  :  "  Remember,  young  man,  that  I 
was  not  the  assailant ;"   and  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

Glenfinglas  had  fainted.  I  immediately  gave  the  alarm,  and 
he  was  carried  to  the  castle.  On  examination,  it  was  found 
that  the  blow  was  planted  so  as  to  penetrate  the  lungs,  but 
was  turned  aside  by  a  large  buckle  which  the  young  laird 
wore,  and  which  served  him  for  various  uses  when  sporting. 
It  had  served  him  now.  The  weapon  of  Vautrey  had  glanced 
from  the  outer  edge  of  this  buckle,  making  a  deep  though 
not  danrrei'ous  wound  in  the  breast  and  shoulder. 


84  SAINT  LEGER. 

The  whole  house  was  in  commotion.  I  related  the  occur- 
rence calmly  and  minutely,  The  youth  present  were  for  in- 
stant vengeance,  but  Frank  and  Hubert  both  interfered  : 

"He  shall  leave  the  castle,"  said  they,  '-instantly;  but  he 
must  leave  it  unharmed,  and  without  danger  of  harm,  while 
in  this  vicinity." 

This  was  finally  agreed  to,  and  Frank  went  to  carry  the 
resolution  into  effect.  It  was  unnecessary  ;  Vautrey  had  left ; 
his  servant  remaining  behind  only  long  enough  to  announce 
his  departure  and  secure  his  luggage. 

XIX. 

The  day  closed.  It  had  been  an  eventful  one  to  me.  I 
had  witnessed  the  strife  of  human  passion ;  I  had  my- 
self participated  in  it ;  I  beheld  upon  how  slight  a  cause 
blood  could  flow  ;  and  I  trembled  when  I  considered  what 
my  own  thoughts  had  been,  and  how  envenomed  my  own 
feelings  had  for  the  moment  become ;  and  I  murmur- 
ed, "Oh,  my  Father,  are  we  made  for  this!"  I  could 
not  control  myself.  I  hastened  to  my  chamber,  and  there 
in  its  solitude  I  prayed  once  more.  It  seemed  as  if  I 
was  launched  upon  life ;  breakers  were  before  and  around 
me  ;  I  could  not  recede ;  on,  on  I  must  gc  ;  and  again  I  pray- 
ed—  and  was  comforted. 

Had  I  found  abiding  peace,  or  was  it  rmly  the  first  recoil 
of  the  heart's  emotion  upon  itself,  before  the  untried  world 
of  strife  on  which  it  had  entered  1  Had  Faith  led  me  to 
prayer,  or  did  Conscience,  tremblingly  alive  to  the  realities 
of  existence,  flutter  like  a  scared  bird,  and  seek  to  return  its 
trust  to  God  ? 


SAINT  LEGER.  $5 


XX. 


Time  went  on.  The  young  laird  recovered  slowly  from  the 
wound  received  from  Vautrey,  but  a  deeper  wound  rankled 
in  his  heart.  The  disgrace  of  being  struck  to  the  earth  by  an 
antagonist,  without  the  power  of  resistance,  was  the  all-ab- 
sorbing idea  which  filled  his  mind.  For  myself,  I  was  not 
versed  in  the  code  of  honpr,  and  could  judge  of  an  insult  or 
an  affront  only  by  its  natural  effect  upon  my  feelings.  A 
cowardly  and  assassin-like  attack  upon  my  person  I  should 
have  resisted  as  I  would  the  assault  of  some  dangerous  brute  ; 
but  to  suppose  that  such  an  attack  could  bring  with  it  insult 
or  disgrace,  seemed  preposterous.  Not  so  reasoned  Glen- 
finglas-  A  true  Highlander,  he  possessed  the  faults  as  well 
as  the  virtues  of  his  race ;  one  of  the  former  was,  never  to 
forgive  an  injury :  a  supposed  insult  was  remembered  even 
to  the  third  and  fourth  generation.  What  a  strange  attribute ! 
Whence  did  man  derive  it  1  Of  a  certainty  not  from  God 
his  creator.  Here  was  matter  then  for  deadly  feud  for  a 
century  to  come,  should  the  instruments  survive  to  carry  it  on. 
The  moment  he  was  sufficiently  recovered,  Glenfinglas  was 
conveyed  to  his  home.  The  laird  had  a  servant  who  usually 
attended  him,  a  young,  shy,  wild-looking  highland  carle, 
named  Donacha  Mac  Ian.  He  belonged  to  a  roving  robber 
clan  which  had  for  years  infested  the  vicinity  of  Glencoe,  and 
became,  by  their  numerous  depredations,  a  constant  source 
of  terror  to  both  highland  and  lowland,  until  the  Duke  of 
Argyle,  under  commission  from  the  crown,  undertook  their 
extirpation.  This  was  carried  out  almost  to  the  letter.  The 
clan  was  surprised  while  reposing  in  fancied  security  in  one 


86  SAINT  LEGER. 

of  their  most  secluded  fastnesses.  This  retreat  had  been  dis- 
covered by  the  capture  of  one  of  their  women,  who  by  threats 
of  instant  destruction  if  she  did  not  disclose  the  place  where 
her  people  were  secreted,  and  by  the  promise  that  her  own 
life  and  that  of  her  child  should  be  spared  if  she  would  point 
it  out,  was  prevailed  upon  to  betray  it.  Glenfinglas,  then  not 
much  more  than  a  boy,  had  accompanied  his  father  on  the 
expedition,  and  was  present  when  the  woman  bargained  for 
the  life  of  her  child.  The  assault  was  made  and  the  surprise 
most  successful.  The  devoted  clan,  cut  off  from  all  means 
of  escape,  their  weapons  having  been  first  secured,  were 
massacred  without  the  power  of  resistance.  Three  or  four 
of  the  assailants  accompanied  Jean  Mac  Ian  (for  that  was  her 
name)  to  protect  her  boy  from  the  general  slaughter.  They 
did  not  find  the  lad  in  the  spot  where  his  mother  had  left 
him,  and  almost  frantic  with  apprehension,  she  flew  from  place 
to  place,  urging  the  men  to  follow  her.  Young  G-lenfinglas, 
who  had  joined  the  party,  was  the  only  one  who  felt  sufficient- 
ly interested  in  her  fate,  or  that  of  the  child,  to  keep  pace 
with  her.  Of  a  nature  somewhat  sluggish,  he  was  energetic 
and  daring  when  roused  into  action.  At  length,  Jean  Mac 
Tan  discovered  her  son  at  a  distance,  surrounded  by  several 
of  Argyle's  men,  who  having  driven  the  lad  from  one  retreat 
to  another,  were  amusing  themselves,  before  putting  him  to 
death,  with  aiming  at  him  rapid  blows  and  thrusts  with  knife 
and  broadsword,  in  order  to  witness  his  singular  dexterity  in 
avoiding  them.  The  poor  boy  was  unarmed,  and  almost 
naked  ;  he  had  retreated  tc  the  angle  of  a  rock,  where  he 
stood  penned  up  by  his  assai. ants,  now  turning  adroitly  to  one 
side,  now  bending  dexterously  to  the  other,  as  successive 
thrusts  were  made,  while  his  eyes  flashed  that  peculiar  fire 
which  is  produced  only  by  the  feeling  of  intense  and  deadly 
hate,  coupled  with  mortal  despair  and  desperation.  Tired 
of  the  sport,  the  soldiers  were  about  to  despatch  their  victim, 


SAINT   LEGER. 


S7 


when  the  frantic  mother  burst  through  them,  and  casting  her 
arms  around  the  boy,  sunk  senseless  at  his  side.  Glenfinglas 
came  up  a  moment  after,  and  just  in  time  to  save  both  mother 
and  son.  Turning  aside  their  weapons,  he  exclaimed  in  a 
fierce  tone  :  "  Ye  fause  cullions  !  is  this  the  way  to  keep  faith 
and  obey  orders  ?  Ye  cowardly  knaves,  to  be  torturing  ane 
of  your  ain  kin  as  if  he  were  a  wild  beast,  just  in  a  word  like 
the  bluidy  thieving  karnes  ye  come  out  against !  The  lad  is 
safe  by  MacCallum  More's  order,  an'  he  were  not,  ye  suld 
ha'  pit  him  to  death  like  braw  men,  and  not  torture  him  like 
brute  beasts." 

It  is  most  probable  that  the  remonstrance  of  the  stripling 
would  have  been  wasted  on  the  fierce  highlanders,  now  be- 
come excited  by  strife  and  bloodshed,  had  not  Argyle's  name 
been  mentioned ;  as  it  was,  they  desisted  sullenly  from  further 
prosecuting  their  Cruel  sport,  and  left  the  ground,  after  re-' 
marking  that  "  it  wadna  be  mickle  gude  to  keep  the  skeen 
fra  the  hause  of  siccan  a  skellum."  It  would  have  been  in- 
human to  have  left  the  poor  wretches  to  the  chances  of  further 
violence ;  so  the  youth  resolved  to  continue  his  protection ; 
he  took  them  under  his  charge,  and  finally  brought  them  to 
Kilchurn  Castle.  Here  the  woman  died  in  about  a  twelve- 
month ;  enjoiniug  upon  her  son,  who  had  not  in  the  least 
changed  from  the  wild  untamed  savage  he  at  first  appeared ; 
to  be  always  devoted  and  leal  to  the  house  of  Glenfinglas,  and 
especially  to  the  cause  of  the  young  laird,  who  had  saved  his 
own  and  his  mother's  life.  The  boy  listened  with  heedful 
attention  to  all  that  she  said,  and  never  left  her  until  her  eyes 
were  closed  in  death.  Not  a  tear  did  he  shed,  not  a  sigh  es- 
caped him ;  but  that  same  night  Donacha  Mac  Ian  left  the 
castle  and  was  not  seen  again  for  more  than  a  week.  "When 
he  did  return,  he  was  emaciated  and  haggard,  and  in  the  last 
state  of  destitution  ;  his  clothes  were  nearly  torn  off  from  his , 
body  :   and  his  hair,  always  in  frightful  disorder,  looked  more 


S8  SAINT  LEGER. 

frightful  than  ever.  On  being  questioned  about  his  absence, 
he  only  exclaimed  "the  worriecow ! — the  wraith!"  and 
avoided  all  farther  explanation. 

The  fact  doubtless  was,  that  Donacha,  overcome  by  his 
passionate  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  only  surviving  relative,  and 
not  wishing  to  give  vent  to  it  in  the  presence  of  others,  had 
fled  into  the  wilderness,  where  for  a  time  he  was  in  a  state  of 
frenzy  akin  to  madness.  No  further  notice  was  ever  taken 
of  this  strange  incident,  and  the  lad  soon  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  it.  He  now  attached  himself  to  his  young  master, 
after  the  most  devoted  manner.  Fierce  and  vindictive  in  his 
passions,  the  latter  could  always  curb  and  control  him  at  will; 
but  to  every  one  else  he  was  the  same  wild  savage  as  at  first. 
As  the  young  laird  grew  up,  he  began  to  have  a  pride  in  the 
relation  which  subsisted  between  Donacha  and  himself.  He 
had  beside  a  real  affection  for  the  lad,  for  never  had  he  swerved 
in  his  devotion,  or  proved  recreant  in  moments  of  peril.  More 
than  once  had  he  saved  the  life  of  his  master  by  freely  periling 
his  own.  He  would  endure  fatigue,  hunger,  privation  of  ev- 
ery kind,  in  his  service,  while  he  continued  wild  and  intracta- 
ble in  every  other  respect.  The  above  account  I  obtained 
from  Hubert  Moncrieff,  who  narrated  it  to  me  as  I  have  now 
written  it. 

On  the  day  when  Glenfinglas  was  struck  down  by  Vautrey, 
Donacha  had  accompanied  his  master  to  Glencoe.  I  remem- 
ber to  have  seen  him  near  the  old  tower  while  the  sport 
was  going  on,  and  he  must  have  heard  what  passed  between 
Vautrey  and  the  Moncrieffs.  He  left  the  ground  at  the  same 
time  that  Glenfinglas  started  to  find  the  count,  and  no  one  saw 
him  afterward.  He  came  not  to  render  his  master  any  as- 
sistance, neither  did  he  return  to  Kilchurn  Castle.  The  sup- 
posed defection  of  this  strange  but  faithful  adherent  was  a 
60urce  of  deep  mortification  to  the  young  man,  and  preyed 
strongly  on  his  mind  dining  his  illness.     Suspicion  would  at 


SAINT  LEGEH.  89 

times  whisper  that  Dotiacha  was  after  all  a  traitor,  and  in 
some  way  leagued  with  Vautrey  or  his  servant ;  but  as  there 
was  nothing  reasonable  in  so  idle  a  supposition,  it  was  not 
long  entertained.  Again  the  thought  would  occur  that  Donacha 
might  have  fallen  in  attempting  to  revenge  the  supposed  death 
of  his  laird,  but  this  seemed  hardly  possible,  considering  his 
extraordinary  strength  and  agility  ;  besides,  no  one  could  tell 
whether  Donacha  knew  of  his  master's  hurt,  as  he  was  not 
seen  near  him  at  the  time.  The  matter  remained  in  mystery, 
and  some  time  after,  upon  inquiring  if  anything  had  been 
heard  about  the  fugitive,  1  was  told,  that  although  search 
had  been  made,  and  the  most  diligent  inquiry  instituted,  no 
trace  could  be  found  of  him,  and  no  clue  -to  explain  his  ab- 
sence could  be  discovered. 

XXI. 

Ella  Moncrieff  —  Thou  wert  indeed  a  bright  and  beauti- 
ful creation  !  Looking  back,  as  I  do  now,  over  eight  years 
of  existence  ;  years,  some  of  which  seem  to  have  been  ages ; 
for  duration  of  life  is  measured  by  events,  and  not  by  min- 
utes and  hours,  as  some  suppose — looking  back,  I  say,  over 
all  these,  I  call  thee  still  as  I  have  written  it,  "  bright  and 
beautiful!"  Thou  hadst  more  of  soul  than  to  an  ordinary 
observer  would  be  apparent ;  thou  hadst  somewhat  less  than 
should  satisfy  a  deep,  fond,  manly  heart.  Yet  that  thou  hadst 
less,  proved  perchance  thy  safety. 

I  hardly  know  why  I  have  paused  to  con  over  these  hidden 
memories.     It  was  a  natural  outburst,  and  I  did  not  restrain  it. 

XXII 

A  few  more  weeks  elapsed :  my  stay  at  Glencoe  could  not 
be  much  further  prolonged.     After  Vautrey's  disappearance, 


90  SAINT  LEGER. 

everything  went  on  delightfully.  The  earl  returned,  and 
seemed  greatly  relieved  both  that  Vautrey  had  taken  his  de- 
parture, and  that  Glenfinglas  was  convalescent.  Ella  and 
myself  became  more  intimate  ;  for  a  few  days,  to  be  sure,  she 
was  quite  distant,  but  I  soon  succeeded  in  restoring  her  to 
good  humor.  Now  that  the  count  was  gone,  and  not  likely 
to  come  back,  I  took  the  liberty  of  telling  Ella  my  opinion  of 
him  with  great  frankness. 

"Cousin  William,"  said  Ella,  when  I  had  finished,  "I 
agree  with  you  in  all  that  you  say.  I  believe  you  are  among 
the  few  who  know  Count  Vautrey,  so  far  as  he  can  be  known. 
You  were  angry  with  me  —  nay  do  not  deny  it — because  I 
seemed  not  to  heed  your  warning ;  but  I  told  you  (have  you 
forgotten  it,  and  how  abruptly  you  ran  away  from  me  just  as 
I  was  about  to  confess  all?)  yes,  I  told  you,  cousin,  that  you 
did  not  know  me." 

"And  surely,"  interrupted  I,  "you  have  afforded  me  very 
little  opportunity  to  improve  the  acquaintance  during  my  stay 
at  Glencoe !" 

"Not  so  fast,  Mr.  William,"  retorted  my  cousin;  "suppose 
I  should  now  make  you  acquainted,  in  one  grand  lesson,  with 
more  than  you  could  have  learned  by  constant  intercourse 
for  the  past  six  weeks,  would  not  that  be  making  an  honora- 
ble amend?" 

"Alas!  not  quite,"  I  answered;  "who  can  restore  to  me 
the  loss  of  that  same  intercourse  you  speak  of?  Not  Count 
Vautrey,  of  a  certainty." 

"A  truce  to  farther  jesting,"  said  Ella;  "  let  me  try  to  be 
serious.  Of  late  it  has  not  been  so  difficult  a  task  as  formerly. 
You  were  kind,  very  kind,  to  speak  to  me  as  you  did,  and  I 
was  wayward,  very  wayward,  to  receive  what  you  said  so 
unhandsomely  ;  not  that  I  doubted  the  goodness  of  your  mo- 
tives ;  not  that  I  believed  Count  Vautrey  to  be  a  true  man; 
no,  no ;  how  can  I   express  what  I  wish  to  say  ?  how  can  I 


SAINT  LEGER.  91 

explain  to  you  why  I  should,  knowing  him  to  be  false  and 
hollow-hearted,  permit  him  to  be  so  much  in  my  society,  and 
allow  his  assiduous  attentions  ?  William  Saint  Leger,  have 
you  never  read,  in  descriptions  of  the  wonders  of  the  East, 
of  a  serpent  with  glossy  satin  coat,  strange  lustrous  eyes,  with 
double  tongue,  curiously  forked,  that  shot  out  ever  and  anon 
like  lambent  flame ;  a  serpent,  cold  and  glassy,  deceitful  and 
treacherous,  which,  in  very  wantonness — caring  not  for 
food  —  seeks  the  place  where  the  singing  birds  rear  their 
young  ;  and  first  lying  quiet  and  motionless,  then  gently  rear- 
ing its  head  till  its  presence  is  perceived,  then  swaying  from 
side  to  side  its  bright  shining  crest,  as  the  poor  bird  flies  round 
and  round,  in  giddy  circles,  now  uttering  faint  cries,  now  ap- 
parently attempting  to  dart  off  in  another  direction,  but  forced 
still  round,  and  round,  and  round,  nearer  and  nearer,  to  the 
fatal  centre,  until  at  last  the  poor  creature  falls  fluttering  into 
the  very  fangs  of  her  tormentor?  You  have  read  of  this?" 
exclaimed  Ella,  with  nervous  emotion;  "how  to  the  very 
life,  how  exact  the  similarity  between  this  Vautrey  and  that 
same  serpent  ?  I  can  compare  him  to  nothing  else.  Do  not 
interrupt  me,"  she  added,  as  I  was  about  to  speak,  '•  till  I 
have  said  all  I  was  going  to  say,  and  then  we  will  have  done 
with  the  subject.  You  saw,  I  am  sure,  that  I  was  not  ingenu- 
ous with  you  ;  you  saw  that,  with  an  air  of  candor,  I  was  not 
really  candid.  When  Vautrey  first  came  to  Glencoe,  he 
seemed  to  select  me  as  an  object  of  his  attentions.  From  the 
very  first  —  what  word  can  I  use?  not  hate,  nor  dread,  nor 
fear,  nor  loathing ;  none  of  these ;  but  I  felt,  as  it  were,  an 
instinctive,  inner  shuddering  at  his  presence,  as  if  he  were 
some  lost  malignant  spirit,  going  to  and  fro  upon  the  earth  to 
mock  and  sneer  at  poor  humanity.  And  yet  he  was  always 
so  courteous,  so  polite  and  civil,  so  interesting,  nay  fascinating, 
when  he  strove  to  engage  the  attention,  that  it  was  impossible 
to  resist  his  influence.     But,  while  I  labored  under  the  charm, 


92  SA.NT  LEGER. 

I  was  not  deceived.  Like  the  wretch  who,  oppressed  with 
horrible  visions  in  the  night,  has  yet  a  dreamy  consciousness 
that  he  does  but  dream,  and  that  when  he  wakes,  all  will  be 
Avell  again  :  so  I,  though  I  was  charmed,  yet  still  abhorred, 
and  felt  a  consciousness  that  I  should  one  day  be  freed  from 
the  baleful  influence.  Surely,  surely,  some  evil  spirit  has 
possession  of  that  man  ;  for  it  was  not  what  he  said  to  me,  it 
was  not  his  manner,  it  was  not  he  himself  that  produced  this 
fearful  impression,  for  in  his  conversation  there  was  nothing 
directly  exceptionable  ;  his  manner  was  always  decorous,  and 
so  was  his  speech.  It  was  the  atmosphere  of  his  presence 
that  disturbed  and  poisoned  all.  Do  you  understand  me, 
AVilliam  V  continued  the  young  girl.  "  I  know  you  under- 
stand me  ;  for  you  have  read  this  man  aright.  I  feel  freer 
and  happier  now  that  I  have  told  you  this.  Thank  God  !  he 
has  left  us  ;  and  yet  if  he  should  return,  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  should  again  be  charmed — again  become  a  victim." 

"  Fear  it  not,  dear  Ella!"  said  I,  with  earnestness  ;  "  you 
are  safe.  Believe  me,  I  had  little  fear  for  you ;  yet  I 
could  not  refrain  from  a  word  of  caution ;  and  while  I  admit 
that  Vautrey  is  still  a  mystery  to  me,  I  am  sure  that  so  far  as 
I  have  spoken,  I  have  not  mistaken  him.  In  this  you  cor- 
roborate me.  Now  I  feel  that  we  are  indeed  better  ac- 
quainted." 

"And  now  I  feel,"  said  Ella,  "  that  you  are  beginning  to 
know  me." 

How  buoyant  were  my  spirits  when  I  left  my  cousin,  after 
the  foregoing  interview !  How  did  my  young  heart  throb 
with  renewed  joy!  And  wherefore]  Why  did  my  pulse 
quicken  ;  why  did  my  mind  become  animated  by  a  thousand 
cheering  thoughts,  as  I  left  her  presence  ?  We  had  only  an 
explanation — nothing  more.  And  although  I  have  put  down 
but  little  of  what  was  said,  still  it  went  simply  to  the  better 
understanding  of  each  other.     There   is    something   in   the 


SAINT  LEGER.  93 

lovely  graces  of  early  womanhood,  that  partakes  of  all  that 
is  desirable  on  this  earth.  I  mean  not  the  influence  of  a  di- 
rect passion :  to  the  lover  I  know  that  everything  wears  a 
charmed  aspect.  But  I  was  no  lover.  Ella,  in  this  way, 
cared  not  for  me.  Yet  there  was  confidence  between  us ; 
two  youthful  souls,  believing  in  each  other.  What  were  ages 
of  plodding,  calculating,  dusty  existence,  compared  with  the 
golden  moments,  which  I  then  enjoyed  !  Just,  too,  before  I 
expected  to  leave  Glencoe,  my  real  happiness  was  com- 
mencing. Is  it  not  always  so  1  Just  when  blind  Man  im- 
agines that  he  has  secured  some  certain  lease  of  joy — the 
curse,  alas,  "not  causeless" — cometh,  and  he  is  miserable. 
Would  this  be  so,  were  God  his  Friend? 

XXIII. 

1  heard  frequently  from  England  during  my  stay  in  the 
highlands;  each  succeeding  letter  was  read  with  increased 
pleasure.  I  began  to  value  the  privileges  and  enjoyments  of 
home,  in  consequence  of  my  temporary  absence  from  them. 
Everything  about  Bert  old  Castle  was  regarded  with  a  new 
interest,  and  the  slightest  occurrence  was  charged  with  unusual 
importance.  From  my  brother  I  did  not  hear  directly,  but 
the  accounts  of  him  received  through  my  mother,  awoke  in 
my  breast  something  like  a  spirit  of  emulation.  I  felt  that  I 
was  little  else  than  an  idle  dreamer ;  but  what  could  a  youth 
of  sixteen  do  ?  This  question  I  asked  myself  over  and  over 
again.  Too  young  for  action,  certainly,  and  for  that  matter, 
not  sufficiently  educated  for  practical  effort ;  the  preparation 
itself  seemed  but  drivelling  work.  "Preparation  for  what  V 
I  would  ask ;  and  then  Destiny,  with  her  pale  face,  seemed  to 
whisper  :  "  Thy  labor  shall  come  to  naught !" 

Besides,  I  could  not  think  of  entering  upon  any  of  the  cus- 
tomary  pursuits  of  the  world.     Political  life  had  no  charms 


94  SAINT  LEGER. 

for  me,  for  I  dreaded  to  bring  its  unhallowed  intrigues  inlo 
collision  with  my  moral  sense.  The  law,  as  a  profession,  I 
abhorred,  because  I  perceived  that  while  it  sharpened  men's 
minds  to  a  wonderful  acuteness,  it  narrowed  their  intellects, 
after  a  peculiar  manner,  until  no  universality  remained.  I 
was  too  conscientious  to  quarter  myself  on  the  church,  so  long 
as  I  could  lay  no  claim  to  a  religious  character.  A  military 
life  I  detested  more  than  all.  Yet  I  was  a  younger  son  ;  and 
although  my  fortune,  in  right  of  my  mother,  would  ultimately 
be  ample,  and  while  I  knew  my  father  to  be  just  toward  his 
children,  still  I  must  resolve  on  some  course.  I  always  strug- 
gled against  the  doctrine  of  fatality.  Early  in  life  I  took  for 
my  motto :  — 

"  Sed  milii  res,  uon  me  rebus  submittere  conor." 

But  I  felt  that  without  some  direct  purpose  in  view,  circum- 
stances would  control  me  instead  of  being  controlled  by  me. 
Again  I  pondered  over  the  business  of  humanity,  inquiring 
what  man  was  made  for  1  Was  it  for  political  intrigue  and 
chicanery  —  for  intricate,  acute  but  belittling  special  plead- 
ing—  for  dishonest  peculation  from  the  church — for  war 
and  bloodshed  1  For  none  of  these,  assuredly.  Then  was 
he  made  for  seclusion ;  to  sit  and  think  and  wonder  and  be 
still,  or  to  labor  and  delve  and  toil  like  beasts  of  burthen  ? 
And  if  either,  cui  bono  ?  One  generation  succeeds  another, 
each  teaching  its  successor  the  tricks  and  the  devices  current 
in  the  world,  while  everything  is  managed  badly  enough. 

Such  were  my  reveries,  as  I  anxiously  stole  away  from  ob- 
servation, and  seated  myself  in  my  chamber,  in  view  of  the 
lofty  peaks  which  frowned  down  upon  the  castle.  The  solemn 
presence  of  the  old  hills,  so  still,  so  awful,  in  their  repose, 
must  have  had  no  small  influence  upon  my  sensitive  spirit. 
Yet  while  I  felt  a  determined  repugnance  to  enter  upon  any 
course  which  did  not  commend  itself  to  my  conscience,  I  was 


SAINT  LEGER.  95 

fast  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  there  was  no  work  for  man 
upon  earth  suited  to  his  true  desires  and  his  true  capacities. 
Desiring  to  pursue  a  right  course,  I  was  insensibly  losing  all 
native  benevolence  of  feeling,  and  giving  way  to  a  morbid 
spirit  of  fault-finding  with  the  affairs  of  the  world.  This  made 
me  intellectually  selfish,  and  cut  me  off  from  a  happy  com- 
munion with  my  fellows. 

I  am  now  chronicling  my  feelings  as  they  were  when  I  was 
about  to  leave  Glencoe.  Bear  with  me  patiently  as  I  put 
down  these  apparently  unimportant  changes  in  my  inner  life. 
I  trust  that  before  I  close  I  shall  be  able  to  furnish  an  in- 
structive lesson.  And  let  me  now  say  to  those  who  may  have 
followed  me  thus  far,  in  hopes  that  my  dry  detail  might  lead 
ultimately  into  the  flowery  land  of  romantic  fiction,  that  they 
are  sure  to  be  disappointed ;  and  unless  they  can  find  matter 
of  interest  in  this  very  detail,  having  in  view  my  ultimate  ob- 
ject, we  had  better  part  company  here,  instead  of  voyaging 
on  together,  with  the  certain  prospect  of  disappointment  in 
the  end. 

XXIV. 

I  had  concluded  my  visit,  and  was  busy  packing  my  port- 
manteau for  my  return  to  England.  Having  emptied  its 
contents,  I  was  proceeding  to  assort  them,  when  my  eye 
lighted  upon  a  small  package,  which  till  now  had  been  over- 
looked. I  took  it  up.  It  was  the  parcel  handed  me  by  Aunt 
Alice  when  I  left  Bertold  Castle,  and  which  had  entirely 
escaped  my  recollection.  Upon  the  outside  my  name  was 
written,  as  follows  : 

"  "William  Henry, 

Youngest  Son  if  Saint  Leger." 

I  opened  the  package  :  I  came  to  e    /elope  after  envelope, 


96  SAINT  LEGER. 

but  discoveied  nothing  save  blank  paper.     At  length  I  found 
an  enclosure,  which  read  : 

"  My  child,  deliver  these  as  directed." 

I.  rapidly  unrolled  the  parcel,  till  a  small  but  massive  ring 
of  gold,  curiously  wrought,  dropped  out.  I  found  that  the 
cover  which  enclosed  it  was  addressed : 

"  To  THE  WCEDALLAH  OF  St.  KlLDA, 

"  These  !" 

This  was  the  last  enclosure,  and  was  unsealed.  I  took  the 
liberty  of  seeing  its  contents,  for  the  exterior  certainly  gave 
no  clue  by  which  I  could  ascertain  the  object  of  the  writer,  ot 
the  destination  of  the  parcel  with  which  I  was  intrusted.  So 
I  opened  the  last  envelope  and  read  these  words : 

"  To  dweller  on  the  Ocean  Rock 
Where  the  storm-sprite  rages  but  harms  he  not 
The  Wcedallah ! 

"  His  heart  is  lone,  his  mind  is  free, 
Patient,  he  sits  and  waits  his  destiny; 
The  Wcedallah!" 

On  the  other  side  I  read  : 

"  This  too  is  a  Saint  Leger;  receive  him, 
Bat  poison  not  his  soul,  for  it  may  not  be." 

I  stood  contemplating  these  singular  and  apparently  inco- 
herent sentences  in  utter  astonishment.  Although  I  was 
ready  to  expect  from  Aunt  Alice  something  strange  and  un- 
common, I  could  not  fathom  this  to  me  inexplicable  jargon. 
"  Aunt  Alice  is  certainly  crazed  :"  I  exclaimed ;  "  and  yet 
there  is  something  in  these  lines  which  puts  my  brain  upon 
the  whirl.  St.  Kilda — The  Hebrides!  I  have  it!  Here 
have  1  been  nearly  three  months  in  their  very  neighborhood, 


SAINT  LEGER. 


97 


without  giving  them  a  thought !  England  sees  not  me  till  I 
have  seen  those  storm-isles  of  the  ocean!" 

Without  farther  reflection,  I  ran  down  to  the  court-yard, 
where  I  had  left  Hubert  shortly  before,  half  angry  because, 
as  he  said,  I  insisted  on  leaving  G-lencoe  so  soon.  "  Ho ! 
Hubert !"  I  shouted,  "  what  say  you  to  the  grand  tour  of  the 
Hebrides  1  I  have  made  up  my  mind.  I  set  off  to-morrow 
morning.  Go  with  me  you  must,  and  we  shall  want  Christie 
for  helmsman." 

Hubert  looked  at  me  for  an  instant,  as  if  he  was  not  quite 
positive  whether  I  was  jesting  or  beside  myself.  He  soon 
discovered  that  I  was  neither,  and  believing  that  a  sudden 
enthusiasm  possessed  me  for  a  wild  and  romantic  excursion, 
he  whirled  himself  round  three  times,  clapped  his  hands, 
struck  me  heartily  on  the  shoulder,  and,  when  he  could  find 
breath,  exclaimed  :  "  Glorious  !  We  are  off  on  the  instant ! 
Grand  idea !  capital  thought !  How  did  it  come  into  your 
head  ?  We  will  get  ready  at  once.  But  my  father  ]"  said 
Hubert,  stopping  short ;  "  I  fear  he  will  not  consent  to  it." 

"  I  will  answer  that  he  will,"  said  I ;  "  pray  go  and  ask  him 
directly." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  with  a  joyful  countenance, 
raying  that  the  earl,  so  far  from  making  any  objection  to  the 
proposed  excursion,  expressed  his  approbation  of  it,  as  evin- 
cing a  love  of  hardy  adventure,  which  he  did  not  like  to  see 
altogether  laid  aside,  in  the  happy  change  of  the  times  from 
disturbed  to  peaceful.  The  freedom  of  Scotland  had  often 
depended,  the  earl  remarked,  upon  her  wild  mountain  fit- 
nesses and  the  rude  islands  which  formed  a  part  of  her  terri- 
tory. In  his  day,  the  youth  boasted  of  their  skill  in  navigating 
the  perilous  channels  between  these  islands  :  he  had  himself 
twice  narrowly  escaped  with  his  life,  in  passing  the  dangerous 
strait  of  Corryvrekan ;  "  and  doubtless  thought  it  proper," 
7 


98  SAINT  LEGER. 

added  Hubert,  "  that  his  younger  son  should  be  exposed  to  a 
similar  ordeal.  But,"  continued  he,  "  I  am  no  novice  at 
channel-sailing,  to  say  nothing  of  my  dexterity  in  a  whirlpool; 
for  what  with  frequent  passages  between  Mull  and  Skye,  with 
an  occasional  visit  to  Coll  and  Muck  island,  together  with  a 
pretty  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  storms  that  are  always 
howling  about  Islay  and  Jura,  I  count  myself  (Christie  being 
present  to  aid  and  abet),  something  more  than  a  mere  fresh- 
water sailor." 

What  a  bustle  did  we  create  during  the  day  in  our  prepar- 
ations !  Old  Christie  was  summoned  to  a  confidential  con- 
ference. I  have  already  spoken  of  this  veteran.  In  age  he 
was  nearly  fifty,  though  his  hardy  frame,  his  alert  step,  and 
the  quick  glance  of  his  eye,  told  of  one  in  the  very  prime  of 
physical  existence.  His  beard  was,  however,  somewhat 
grizzled,  the  only  revenge  Time  seemed  to  have  taken  upon 
him.  In  person  he  was  tall,  bony,  and  muscular,  with  not  an 
ounce  of  superfluous  flesh  to  encumber  him.  He  was  a  sort 
of  major-domo  at  the  castle,  in  consequence  of  his  long  ex- 
perience, well-tried  fidelity,  and  great  good  nature.  He  was 
born  at  Glencoe,  and  was,  if  I  mistake  not,  foster-brother  of 
the  earl.  He  had  always  been  near  his  person,  had  accom- 
panied him  abroad,  and  had  served  him  in  cases  of  extremity. 
As  the  young  men  grew  up,  Christie  seemed  to  renew  his 
youth,  and  entered  into  all  their  sports  with  as  genuine  a  zest 
as  if  he  was  of  their  own  age  ;  they,  by  the  way,  always  de- 
ferring to  him,  in  matters  of  practical  expediency.  In  this 
way  Christie  would  often  make  excursions  with  them  to  the 
neighboring  islands  to  hunt,  fish,  or  explore,  "  it  being  very 
necessary,"  as  he  would  remark,  "that  the  education  of  the 
puir  lads  suldna  be  quite  negleckit ;  for  wha  could  tell  what 
mightna  just  happen  ony  time  yet?"  The  earl,  it  would 
seem,  tacitly  approved  of  Christie's  reasoning ;  he  certainly 


SAINT    LEGER.  99 

made  no  objection  to  it ;  so  that  the  young  men  were  initiated 
into  all  the  hardy  exercises  of  their  race. 

The  summons  for  Christie  was  shortly  followed  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  old  fellow  himself,  who  had  no  sooner  en- 
tered the  room  than  he  was  seized  by  Hubert,  who,  after 
ineffectually  endeavoring  to  give  him  a  whirl  round  (a  famili- 
iarty  exercised  toward  no  other  servant),  shouted  merrily  : 
"  Rouse  yourself,  my  old  lad  !  Did  you  know  that  you  are 
getting  so  rusty  that  the  earl  has  ordered  you  banished  from 
Grlencoe,  and  I  am  commissioned  to  see  the  order  put  into 
execution  %  You  have  till  day-break  to-morrow  morning  to 
make  ready.  So  lose  no'  time ;  off  we  must  go,  I  am  to  be 
along,  for  fear  you  will  be  stealing  back  before  your  time 
is  up  !" 

During  this  edifying  discourse,  the  old  man  stood  regard- 
ing the  youth  very  much  as  an  old,  sagacious,  and  well-trained 
mastiff  watches  the  pranks  of  a  favorite  young  dog  Avho  is 
cutting  gambols  around  him,  and  although  well  pleased  with 
the  capers,  is  hardly  willing  that  his  own  dignity  should  be 
entrenched  upon  by  them.  When  Hubert  therefore  paused 
for  breath,  Christie  very  coolly  turned  up  his  gray  eyes,  ex- 
claiming : 

"  What's  in  the  wind  1100  V  "  Pshaw,  Christie  !  don't 
affect  so  much  indifference,  when  you  know  you  are  crazy 
for  a  scamper  of  some  kind ;"  and  thereupon  Hubert  pro- 
ceeded to  give  the  detail  of  the  proposed  excursion,  which 
comprised  a  visit  to  some  of  the  adjacent  islands,  and  after- 
ward a  bold  stretch  out  as  far  as  St.  Kilda,  the  most  remote 
of  the  Hebrides.  "  And  now,  Christie,  you  know  all  about 
it ;  keep  our  plans  secret.  We  have  the  earl's  permission, 
remember ;  we  shall  leave  everything  to  you.  We  can  ex- 
pect nothing  fit  to  eat  after  leaving  Skye,  so  see  that  you  lay 
in  a  good  stock  of  small  stores,  and — 


100  SAINT   LEGER. 

"  But,  master  Hubert,"  interrupted  Christie.  "  I  dinna  ken 
an'  I  can  be  spared  just  noo  at  the  castle,  and  ye  ken  weel  I 
am  getting  just  ower  auld  for  the  like  o'  this.  I  wadna  mind 
to  ferry  ye  over  to  Skye,  but  when  ye  talk  about  St.  Kilda, 
it  is  quite  anither  thing,  ye  suld  mind ;  for  I  wadna  care  to 
catch  a  blast  o'  the  hurricane  outside  o'  Lewis." 

Christie's  countenance,  during  this  harangue,  would  have 
been  a  model  for  a  painter.  From  the  first,  I  perceived  that 
he  was  only  practising  upon  Hubert  in  return  for  his  speech; 
and  to  see  the  old  fellow's  endeavor  to  assume  an  expression 
which  was  so  unnatural,  was  ludicrous  enough.  Hubert,  on 
the  contrary,  at  first  mistook  it,  and  was  about  to  express  his 
impatience  and  astonishment  at  such  an  extraordinary  dis- 
closure, when  a  humorous  twinkle  of  Christie's  eye  explained 
matters  in  an  instant,  and  Hubert  was  himself  again.  "  Ah, 
Christie,"  said  he,  "  you  are  the  true  metal,  after  all,  but — " 
Christie  here  cut  off  all  further  superfluous  discourse  by  in- 
sisting that  we  should  proceed  to  business.  First,  a  plan 
must  be  drawn  up,  to  be  followed  explicitly ;  then  a  consul- 
tation about  the  craft  we  should  go  in,  and  who  to  select 
for  the  crew.  The  first  was  soon  settled  ;  about  the  second 
there  was  more  difficulty.  Donald  MacCae's  fishing  smack 
(belonging  to  the  earl)  was  not  quite  the  thing,  in  Christie's 
opinion ;  "  she  was  ower  wet  in  a  gale  of  wind,"  though  that 
was  not  to  be  minded,  but  she  was  withal  a  lubberly  sailer. 
The  earl's  new  yacht  would  do  for  a  trip  to  Mull  in  fair 
weather,  and  poorly  enough  at  that ;  (it  had  been  ordered 
without  taking  Christie's  opinion  on  the  subject).  Finally, 
Donald  Lairg's  craft  was  selected  as  best  qualified  to  perform 
all  the  offices  required ;  but  Christie  feared  that  Donald  was 
not  yet  home  from  the  herring  cruise ;  he  would  send  down 
to  the  loch  and  see. 

After  long  hesitation,  an  i  after  discussing  with  himself  the 


«s<UNT   tttGER. 


101 


merits  of  the  various  retainers  about  the  castle,  for  the  pur- 
poses of  our  enterprise,  Christie  finally  made  choice  of  two 
brothers,  Hugh  and  Aleck  MacDonald,  as  most  competent  to 
do  duty  in  it.  These  two  he  insisted  would  be  quite  suffi- 
cient, and  more  would  only  be  in  the  way.  We  ascertained 
that  Donald  Lairg  had  fortunately  returned;  whereupon 
Christie  took  leave,  to  see  that  the  craft  was  well  provided, 
and  her  ballast  properly  stowed.  Next,  fowling-pieces,  pis- 
tols, bows-and-arrows,  and  fishing-gear  of  every  description, 
were  put  in  order,  and  an  abundant  supply  of  everything  that 
was  deemed  needful,  made  ready.  We  kept  the  house  quite 
in  an  uproar.  Both  Margaret  and  Ella  entered  most  actively 
into  our  preparations,  and  did  much  to  aid  them.  Frank  was 
not  at  the  castle ;  he  was  spending  a  few  days  with  G-lenfin- 
glas,  who  had  quite  recovered  from  the  effects  of  his  late 
wound. 

XXV. 

The  morning  was  fair.  I  was  first  up.  For  it  was  scarce- 
ly daybreak  when  I  threw  open  the  window  looking  toward 
the  mountain,  and  let  the  cool  air  breathe  through  the  room. 
A  heavy  fog  covered  the  summit,  which  was  now  slowly  dis- 
persing before  the  light  just  dawning  in  the  east.  Presently 
I  heard  the  noise  of  some  one  in  the  court-yard ;  and  going 
down,  I  saw  Christie  busy  in  getting  together  what  we  were 
to  take  on  our  voyage.  He  was  alone,  and  I  watched 
him  a  few  moments  unperceived.  He  was  whistling  a  stirring 
highland  air,  while  he  worked  away  with  all  the  glee  of  a 
lad  of  fourteen,  who  had  broken  from  school.  "A  plague  on 
the  lazy  loons !"  muttered  he,  after  awhile ;  "  I'll  just  gie 
them  another  call."  So  saying,  he  ran  past  where  I  was 
standing,  almost  overturning  me  in  his  hurry,  and  I  soon 
heard  him  shouting:  "Hugh!  Aleck — Aleck!  Hugh!"  ac- 


l02  SAINt  LEGlitt- 

companicd  with  various  expletives  which  should  have  aroused 
the  Seven  Sleepers  themselves,  had  they  been  so  forcibly  ad- 
dressed. Hubert  soon  made  his  appearance,  and  everything 
was  got  ready.  We  sat  down  to  an  early  breakfast,  where 
we  met  the  young  ladies  only,  and  having  received  their  kind- 
est wishes  for  a  pleasant  excursion,  we  left  the  castle. 

Proceeding  to  the  loch,  at  no  great  distance,  we  found  the 
men  ready  to  get  under  way.  We  had  a  pleasant  breeze 
from  the  north,  and  sailed  rapidly  down  the  frith,  till  we 
made  the  coast  of  Mull;  then  changing  our  course,  we  stood 
to  the  northward  and  westward,  intending  to  land  at  Skye. 
This  was  my  first  experience  at  sea,  and  everything  was  new 
and  strange  to  me  ;  but  the  effect  was  salutary ;  a  world 
seemed  opening  before  me,  of  a  new  but  not  unwelcome 
creation.  Shut  out  from  the  pleasures,  the  enjoyments,  the 
occupations  of  earth,  the  mind  undergoes  a  distinct  change. 
It  discovers  that  its  former  classes  of  ideas  were  not  abso- 
lutely essential,  for  new  images  crowd  upon  it,  new  thoughts 
take  possession  of  it,  while  new  feelings  characterize  the 
heart.  I  felt  that  I  was  still  in  a  transition  state.  But  for 
the  first  time,  almost  in  my  whole  life,  I  felt  my  soul  enlarge. 

My  curiosity  was  also  active.  I  had  not  betrayed  my  se- 
cret to  Hubert ;  for  some  reason  I  felt  disinclined  to  do  it. 
So  impatient  was  I  to  reach  St.  Kilda,  that  I  would  willingly 
have  foregone  a  visit  to  the  intermediate  islands,  but  I  did  not 
care  to  urge  this  ;  so  I  could  only  revolve  in  my  mind  the  cu- 
rious incident  of  the  package  intrusted  to  me  by  Aunt  Alice, 
and  the  more  curious  character  of  its  contents.  Something  I 
was  sure  awaited  me  in  that  island.  The  impression  was  too 
strong  to  be  shaken  off.     So  I  nursed  it  the  more  carefully. 

"  Woedallah !  Woedallah !  Hubert,"  said  I,  rousing  my- 
self from  the  revery,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  Woedallah?" 

"Woedallah?     lam  sure   1   can  not  tell.     I  never  heard 


SAINT  LEGER.  103 

the  word  before.  Pray  where  did  you  pick  it  up,  and  what 
possesses  you  to  be  mumbling  it  over  now?"  answered  my 
cousin.  "Up  with  the  helm,  Christie,  and  let  us  speak  that 
fisherman.  I  will  wager,  that  we  overhaul  him  in  half  an 
hour.  Now  we  have  her  in  a  line — keep  her  so.  Come, 
Saint  Leger,  no  more  moping.  Wait  till  we  reach  St. 
Kilda,  and  then  ask  the  old  Norsewoman,  if  she  is  still  alive, 
about  that  unintelligible  word.  She  can  tell  you,  I  doubt  not. 
"  I  hope  so,"  replied  I,  musingly. 

'  XXVI. 

Our  voyage  was  full  of  those  incidents  which  youth  most 
love ;  exciting  incidents,  quickly  succeeding  each  other,  of 
novel  character,  quite  out  of  the  common  course  :  healthful, 
heart-stirring  incidents ;  serving  to  break  up  old  associations, 
causing  the  mind  to  form  new  estimates  of  everything ;  in 
short,  effecting  such  an  essential  change  in  all  the  feelings, 
that  it  seemed  an  entire  change  of  being.  The  strange  ap- 
pearance of  things  in  the  different  islands  at  which  we  touch- 
ed ;  the  singular  manners  and  customs  of  the  inhabitants ; 
their  isolated  position  with  respect  to  all  the  world,  and  our 
own  isolated  position  with  respect  to  them,  gave  additional 
interest  to  our  voyage.  Then  came  the  storm  and  the  hurri- 
cane (for  it  rarely  only  stormed  there),  around  those  bleak, 
wild,  surf-beaten  landmarks,  where  tempests  prevail  con- 
tinually. 

But  as  I  am  not  writing  a  book  of  travels,  or  a  geographi- 
cal history,  or  a  tour  of  any  sort,  I  shall  not  depart  from  the 
plan  I  have  adopted,  although  I  might  devote  many  pa?es  to 
a  description  of  all  that  we  saw  and  heard  in  the  Hebrides. 
Possessing  in  my  eyes,  as  I  have  before  mentioned,  so  much 
of  interest ,  it  is  with  the  more  difficulty  that  I  repress  the  de-v 
sire  to  copy  from  my  journal  a  full  account  of  this  excursion. 


104  SAINT  LEGEH. 

But  I  will  repress  it ;  for  if  I  allow  myself  to  deviate  from  my 
course  at  this  stage  of  the  narrative,  I  shall  find  more  abundant 
excuse  for  a  like  deviation  at  every  succeeding  stage. 

After  a  short  stay  at  Skye,  we  steered  for  the  range  of 
coast  called  the  Long  Island,  and  touched  at  Harris,  in  order 
to  see  the  "steward,"  a  name  given  to  the  proprietor  of  St. 
Kilda,  or  rather  to  the  lessee  of  the  proprietor,  who  is  always 
his  near  relative.  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod  was  at  that  time 
the  steward.  We  found  in  him  a  strange  mixture  of  many 
excellent  qualities  with  many  whimsical  peculiarities.  He 
was  a  highland  gentleman,  naturally  of  agreeable  manners, 
exceedingly  polite  and  honest-hearted  ;  but  from  being  almost 
always  surrounded  by  inferiors,  he  had  become  somewhat 
arbitrary,  somewhat  impatient,  and  not  a  little  conceited.  His 
pride  of  birth  was  excessive,  and  equalled  only  by  his  pride 
of  territory,  which  consisted  of  a  bleak  unfruitful  island,  some 
five  or  six  miles  in  circumference,  and  several  large  rocks 
contiguous  thereto.  This  feeling  of  territorial  aggrandize- 
ment had  made  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod  an  antiquary;  he 
gave  abundant  proof  of  this  whenever  he  could  find  a  listen- 
er. Shut  out  from  the  world,  excepting  always  an  annual 
visit  to  his  cousin  the  "proprietor"  at  Edinburgh,  it  was  lit- 
tle wonder  that  he  had  acquired  habits  unavoidable  to  his 
manner  of  life ;  but  these  could  not  abridge  a  particle  of  his 
overflowing  hospitality.  Coming  as  we  did  from  the  house- 
hold of  the  Earl  of  Venachoir,  to  whom  the  "  steward"  was 
well-known,  there  was  an  additional  incentive  on  his  part  to 
receive  us  with  a  cordial  welcome.  When,  however,  we  told 
him  that  the  object  of  our  present  voyage  included  a  visit  to 
St.  Kilda,  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod  look  serious ;  then  he 
shook  his  head  ;  but  at  last  he  smiled,  and  after  that  he 
spoke : — 

"  Are  you  resolved  on  this,  young  gentlemen  ? — for  if  ye 
are,  it  will  be  useless  to  attempt  to  discourage  you  by  telling 


SAINT  LEGER.  105 

the  dangers  of  such  a  trip  at  this  season.  It  will  be  only  ad- 
ding fuel  to  the  flame,  for  I  know  the  stuff  such  lads  are  made 
of.  Just  one  look  at  ye  tells  the  story.  But  I  am  sorry  you 
had  not  come  six  weeks  earlier,  so  that  we  could  have  taken 
you  in  the  large  boat.  I  make  but  one  visit  to  the  island  dur- 
ing the  year,  and  that  is  in  the  summer :  indeed,  we  consider 
St.  Kilda  inaccessible  at  any  other  season.  You  are,  I  trust, 
still  in  time,  but  the  September  hurricanes  are  brewing;  and 
believe  me,"  he  added,  seriously,  "  no  craft  fashioned  by 
man  can  encounter  them  and  live." 

Seeing  that  we  were  determined,  the  steward  did  not  at- 
tempt further  to  discourage  us  ;  but  insisted  that  as  the  weather 
was  unpropitious,  we  should  become  his  guests  for  two  or 
three  days,  when  the  moon  would  change,  and  in  all  proba- 
bility we  should  have  a  more  favorable  time  to  put  to  sea.. 
We  accepted  the  kind  invitation,  and  took  up  our  quarters  at 
Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod's  house.  We  spent  the  time  prin- 
cipally in  listening  to  the  account  given  by  that  gentleman  of 
the  islands  adjacent,  and  the  character  of  their  various  inhab- 
itants. The  steward's  conversation,  although  savoring  of  the 
peculiarities  of  his  character,  was  in  the  main  exceedingly 
interesting.  I  must  except,  however,  his  long  and  wearisome 
genealogical  disquisitions,  and  his  never-ending  discussions 
(with  himself)  about  the  original  peopling  of  the  islands; 
although  the  steward  sometimes,  fearing  he  was  carrying  his 
assumption  of  royalty  a  little  too  far,  would  be  pleased  to 
say,  with  a  sort  of  affected  candor,  that,  "  to  be  sure  his  king- 
dom of  St.  Kilda  and  its  dependencies  afforded  him  but  a 
barren  sceptre,  still  the  inhabitants  looked  to  him  for  protec- 
tion, and  he  was  bound  to  afford  it,  even  as  his  fathers  had 
done  for  centuries."  I  did  not  exactly  understand  the  nature 
of  the  protection  alluded  to  by  the  steward,  who  never,  as  I 
could  leam,  visited  his  dominions  except  to  collect  his  rents. 
Still  I  did  not  venture  to  ask  an  explanation,  but  chose  rather 


106  SAINT  LEGER. 

to  lead  him  on  to  topics  about  which  I  had  more  curiosity  to 
hear.  To  my  inquiries  about  St.  Kilda,  or  as  the  steward 
usually  called  it,  Hirta,  his  replies  were  full  and  sensible. 

"  You  will  find,"  he  observed,  "  that  island  to  be  one  of 
the  greatest  curiosities  in  the  known  world ;  ay,  or  in  the  un- 
known. Its  situation,  the  situation  of  its  inhabitants,  and  their 
peculiar  customs,  should  make  it  an  object  of  attention  to 
civilized  man.  Notwithstanding,"  continued  Mr.  Alexander 
MacLeod,  waxing  warm,  "  I  do  not  believe  there  is  one  per- 
son in  a  thousand  in  Great  Britain  who  knows  of  its  exist- 
ence. Two  hundred  years  have  our  family  been  in  possession 
of  Hirta ;  and  those  two  centuries,  which  have  marked  their 
history  so  impressively  upon  all  the  world  besides,  have  left 
untouched  the  rocks  and  islands  of  the  Deiicaledonian." 

Perceiving  that  the  steward's  heart  was  in  the  matter,  I 
ventured  one  question  after  another,  hoping  at  last  to  get  a 
satisfactory  solution  of  the  mysterious  inscription  upon  the 
package  with  which  I  was  intrusted.  "  Of  late  years,"  con- 
tinued the  steward,  " '  The  Society  for  Propagating  Christian 
Knowledge"  had  with  his  consent  and  assistance  annually 
sent  a  missionary  to  Hirta,  for  the  purpose  of  giving  the 
people  general  instruction,  and  especially  to  afford  them  the 
privilege  of  listening  from  week  to  week  to  the  living  preach- 
er. The  present  missionary,  Mr.  David  Cantyre,  was  now 
on  the  island,  a  good  and  zealous  man,  laboring  with 
great  earnestness,  and  as  he  believed,  with  excellent  success. 
The  entire  population  of  the  island  was  only  about  ninety  ! 
—  a  little  community  of  honest,  simple-hearted  creatures,  ob- 
taining a  bare  subsistence  by  the  most  hazardous  exposure ; 
encountering  danger  with  a  fearless  intrepidity  ;  exhibiting 
in  their  fortitude,  their  perseverance,  and  their  contempt  of 
danger,  all  that  is  manly  and  heroic  in  character."  After  the 
steward  had  exhausted  the  topic  upon  which  he  was  descant- 


SAINT  LEGBR. 


107 


ing  with  so  much  enthusiasm,  I   ventured  to  inquire  if  there 
was  any  local  government  in  the  island. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod,  slightly 
drawing  himself  up,  "  I  have  delegated  no  authority  to  any 
one.  The  islanders  form  one  community ;  they  have  one  re- 
ligion ;  are  devout,  observe  the  sabbath,  live  harmoniously 
together,  have  very  few  wants,  and  such  only  as  they  are 
themselves  capable  of  supplying." 

I  gained  nothing  by  this  last  response ;  but  I  was  deter- 
mined to  persevere ;  so,  after  speaking  on  various  topics,  I 
gradually  reached  the  subject  of  ancient  names  and  titles ; 
putting  myself,  by  way  of  encouragement,  in  the  attitude  of 
an  attentive  listener.  But  I  had  not  calculated  upon  so  des- 
perate an  attack  upon  my  patience.  I  was  compelled  to  un- 
dergo an  infliction  which  lasted,  it  seemed  to  me,  the  best 
part  of  the  day ;  in  which  the  antiquities  of  the  island  were 
descanted  upon  with  the  temper  of  a  man  who  had  his  heart 
in  the  work.  I  did  not  attempt  to  follow  the  thread  of  the 
steward's  discourse  ;  my  ears  were  only  open  to  catch  a  word 
which  might  throw  some  light  upon  the  before-mentioned  in- 
scription. Going  back  to  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar,  Mr.  Mac- 
Leod proceeded  to  give  an  account  of  the  antiquities  of  Hirta, 
and  in  so  doing  made  plentiful  quotations  from  Virgil,  Sueto- 
nius, Tacitus,  and  other  ancient  authors ;  while,  as  he  ad- 
vanced, he  dived  into  the  historical  records  of  the  Volscae, 
Cymbri,  Sacae,  Allemanni,  Picti,  Scotti,  Brigantes,  Paeones, 
Cyclopes,  and  Bagandae,  until  my  head  ached.  I  bore  the  in- 
fliction, however,  with  exemplary  patience,  until  at  last,  I 
seized  upon  the  opportunity  to  ask  a  direct  question,  as  the 
steward  paused  in  the  middle  of  a  disquisition  about  the  word 
"  Bholg,"  which  was,  he  said,  by  generally  received  opinion 
considered  pure  Hibernian,  but  which  he  insisted  was  derived 
from  the  Russian  "  Wolga,"  the  name  of  a  river,  and  which  car-  > 
vied  him  at  once  back  to  the  ancient  Rutulians,  when,  as  I  have 


108  SAINT  LEGER. 

remarked,  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod  paused;  whether  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  breath,  or  because  he  was  getting  involved 
in  the  mazes  of  his  own  discussion,  I  do  not  presume  to  say. 
Wishing  to  gain  something  to  repay  me  for  listening  so  long, 
I  asked  my  host  abruptly,  "  Pray,  Mr.  MacLeod,  can  you  tell 
me  the  meaning  of  "  Wcedallah?" 

"Wcedallah!"  said  the  steward,  peevishly,  looking  at  the 
same  time  not  a  little  disconcerted ;  "  Wosdallah !  It  is  a 
word  never  used  as  a  compound.  '  Weed'  is  simple  enough  ; 
'  allah'  is  well  understood  ;  but  they  are  never  put  together. 
Unless  you  use  it  as  a  corruption  of  the  good  old  Norwegian, 
'  Udaller,'  signifying  the  original  chief  or  possessor  of  the 
soil." 

"  Then  you  never  have  heard  the  word  before  V  said  1,  in- 
quiringly. 

"  It  is  not  used  as  a  compound,  my  young  gentleman,"  re- 
torted the  steward,  quickly,  and  without  answering  my  ques- 
tion ;  "  but  I  have  puzzled  your  brain  enough  for  once,  I  see 
plainly.  And  now,"  continued  he,  looking  at  me  significantly, 
"  pray  let  me  ask,  since  you  are  so  determined  on  a  visit  to 
Hirta,  what  it  is  that  takes  you  there  1" 

"  Curiosity,"  replied  I,  slightly  piqued  by  the  manner  .pi 
the  questioner ;  "  curiosity,  now  still  more  active  to  witness 
the  wonders  you  have  described  to  me."  Mr.  Alexander 
MacLeod  slowly  placed  the  fore-finger  of  his  right  hand  up- 
on  the  side  of  his  nose,  giving  the  latter  member  a  slight  de- 
flection to  the  left,  nodded  knowingly,  as  much  as  to  say  "  I 
understand  it;  never  mind  an  explanation;"  then  took  his 
finger  down  and  remained  silent.  It  was  now  my  turn  to 
ask  a  solution  of  such  conduct,  which  in  this  connection  ex- 
cited my  interest  to  the  highest  pitch  ;  but  just  then  the  stew- 
ard was  summoned  to  attend  to  something  requiring  his  im- 
mediate presence,  and  much   to  my  disappointment,  our  con- 


SAINT  LEGER.  109 

versation  was  not  again  resumed.  I  felt  satisfied,  however, 
from  what  had  passed,  that  the  steward  knew  more  about  the 
mysterious  word  than  he  was  willing  to  admit.  But  I  had  no 
opportunity  for  explanation,  for  the  next  day  we  took  leave 
of  our  hospitable  host,  who  gave  us  a  letter  to  the  minister, 
Mr.  David  Cantyre,  commending  us  to  his  especial  care.  As 
we  were  departing,  Mr.  MacLeod  came  close  up  to  me,  and 
taking  my  hand,  whispered  :  "  Have  a  canny  care  of  yourself, 
my  young  friend ;  you  will  not  find  the  coast  so  clear  as  you 
imagine  perhaps;  take  care  —  take  care/"  And  not  wait- 
ing for  an  answer,  the  -  steward,  with  a  hearty  "  God  bless 
you!"  turned  hastily  away. 


XXVII. 

We  now  set  sail,  and  after  touching  at  North  Uist,  stood 
out  for  the  stormy  Hirta. 

During  the  voyage  we  had  constant  occasion  to  admire  the 
promptitude,  the  coolness,  the  ready  wit  and  able  seamanship 
of  old  Christie.  I  could  not  but  reflect  how  little  we  can 
judge  of  an  individual,  until  he  is  placed  in  a  position  to 
call  forth  his  real  powers.  It  occurred  to  me  more  than  once, 
during  moments  of  peril,  when  our  lives  depended  upon  the 
self-possession  and  presence  of  mind  of  one  person,  how  lit- 
tle the  wisdom  of  the  statesman,  the  devices  of  the  political 
intriguer,  the  subtlety  of  the  lawyer,  or  the  craft  of  the 
scholar,  could  avail  to  save  life  and  limb,  as  we  were  situated, 
with  the  sea  lashed  into  fury,  and  the  winds  howling  around 
us.  How  rapidly  men's  relations  to  each  other  change  under 
circumstances  of  danger.  I  learned  many  lessons  of  practi- 
cal utility,  which  I  shall  never  forget,  from  old  Christie  in 
that  vovage. 

,     to 

At  length  the  wished-for  point  was  made.     We  had  expe- 


HO  SAINT  LEGER. 

rienced  a  terrible  "blow"  which  had  shortly  subsided,  and 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  sun  came  out ;  when 
suddenly  Hubert  exclaimed,  "  Land  ho  !  Huzza !  huzza ! 
huzza  !   See,  see,  Saint  Leger  !      There  is  old  Hirta  herself." 

I  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  Hubert,  when  I  be- 
held what  appeared  to  be  the  point  of  a  high  rock,  rising  ab- 
ruptly from  the  ocean. 

•'Why  don't  you  look,  Christie!"  continued  Hubert; 
"  there  is  St.  Kilda.  She  bears  by  compass  just  as  our  friend 
MacLeod  told  us  '  northwest  by  west  half-north.'  Do  n't  be 
in  ill-humor  because  you  did  not  see  it  first.     Look  !  look  !" 

A  smothered  exclamation  of  contempt,  escaped  from  Chris- 
tie, at  the  mention  of  the  name  of  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod  : 
but  he  simply  replied  :  "  Not  quite  so  fast,  Master  Hubert  : 
I  see  nothing  of  St.  Kilda,  though  I  do  see,  and  have  seen  for 
half  an  hour,  the  great  rock  of  Boreray.  We  have  two 
leagues  of  southing  from  there,  at  any  rate,  compass  or  no 
compass;  and  after  that,  we  must  double  Livinish  (another 
large  rock)  before  we  make  St.  Kilda." 

Christie  was  right,  as  usual ;  but  the  gale  had  abated  and 
the  wind  was  happily  in  our  favor.  We  rapidly  passed  both 
of  these  stupendous  land-marks,  when  St.  Kilda  itself  actu- 
ally came  in  view.  I  can  not  describe  my  emotions  on  be- 
holding the  towering  cliffs  of  this  storm-beaten  isle.  My 
ideas  were  indistinct ;  my  thoughts  were  confused ;  so  I  tried 
not  to  think  at  all,  but  turned  my  attention  to  the  localities  of 
the  spot  which  were  becoming  more  and  more  visible.  We 
passed  near  an  immense  battlement  of  fearful  rocks,  and  laid 
our  course  to  the  landing-place,  which  was  no  more  nor  less 
than  a  solid  rock  sloping  down  into  the  sea,  and  called  by  the 
natives  "  The  Saddle."  We  were  espied  by.  the  inhabitants 
long  before  we  were  ready  to  land.  A  large  party  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  had  assembled  to  receive  us,  the  arrival 


SAINT  LEGER. 


Ill 


of  a  "  boat"  being  a  remarkable  event.  Among  the  number 
was  the  worthy  missionary,  Mr.  David  Cantyre,  who  hastened 
down,  on  learning  that  a  strange  boat  was  approaching,  in  or- 
der to  render  all  necessary  assistance.  By  the  exertions  of 
the  men  on  shore,  we  effected  a  landing,  though  with  consid- 
erable difficulty,  not  unattended  by  danger,  as  the  sea  still  ran 
high,  and  the  "saddle"  was  covered  with  a  species  of  Lichen 
Marinus,  called  in  Scotland,  slawk,  which  was  so  slippery 
that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  take  a  step  upon  it  without 
falling. 

Our  arrival  was  a  matter  of  considerable  surprise  to  the 
natives,  when  they  perceived  that  we  had  not  put  in  in  dis- 
tress, or  come  upon  any  business  of  the  steward.  The 
first  thought  which  struck  me,  on  observing  these  people,  was, 
that  they  were  warm-hearted  and  hospitable.  The  habitation 
of  each  was  freely  offered  to  us  so  long  as  we  chose  to  stay ; 
and  we  should  have  been  puzzled  where  to  have  made  choice, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  missionary,  whom  we  soon  discovered, 
and  to  whom  we  presented  the  letter  of  Mr.  Alexander  Mac- 
Leod, which  served  at  once  to  procure  for  us  the  warmest  re- 
ception. Proceeding  a  short  distance  from  where  we  landed, 
we  came  to  what  might  be  termed  "  the  village,"  where  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  island  dwelt.  It  consisted  of  a  double 
row  of  square  stone  huts,  not  over  nine  feet  in  height,  with 
flat  roofs,  and  which  certainly  gave  no  very  striking  indica- 
tions of  good  cheer  within. 

Hubert  cast  a  rueful  glance  at  the  prospect  before  us,  for 
it  was  near  night-fall,  and  we  were  much  fatigued  and 
needed  repose ;  but  the  good  missionary,  guessing  what  was 
passing  in  bis  mind,  remarked  :  "  We  have  few  inducements 
here  to  tempt  visiters  ;  but  I  have  an  abundance  of  room  in 
yon  habitation  to  accommodate  you  all,  and  plenty  of  homely 
fare  to  stay  your  appetites,  if  you  will  consent  to  become  my 
guests. 


112  SAINT  LEGER. 

The  invitation  was  thankfully  accepted  for  ourselves ;  but 
Christie,  with  his  usual  tact  and  good  sense,  said  that  he  had 
already  made  arrangements,  for  himself  and  his  two  follow- 
ers, with  a  Harris  man,  with  whom  he  had  once  sailed  on  a 
herring  cruise,  and  who  had  taken  up  his  abode  at  St.  Kilda. 
Leaving  Christie,  therefore,  to  take  care  of  himself  and  his 
men,  we  followed  the  minister  to  his  residence.  Passing 
through  the  first  apartment,  which  was  unfurnished,  we  came 
to  the  next  and  only  habitable  room  in  the  dwelling.  Here, 
it.  seemed,  we  were  to  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  ;  although  I  could 
discover  no  accommodations  for  performing  the  last-named 
function,  unless  upon  bare  floors.  A  smoking  supper  soon 
put  the  apprehension  to  flight,  by  appealing  to  my  present 
wants.  It  consisted  of  a  roasted  solan-goose,  stuffed  with 
gibain  ;  eggs,  cooked  and  raw,  in  several  varieties,  but  all  of 
wild  fowl ;  tulmers,  fried  in  their  own  oil,  and  hot  cakes  of  oat- 
meal. Our  sharp  appetites  were  a  sufficient  incentive,  and 
we  did  ample  justice  to  the  minister's  board. 

Drowsiness  succeeded  the  repast;  whereupon  our  host 
threw  down  a  little  door  in  one  side  of  the  apartment,  and 
discovered  to  us  a  wide  bed,  inserted  as  it  were  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  wall.  This  was  so  much  better  than  I  had  anti- 
cipated, that  I  did  not  stop  to  scrutinize ;  but  telling  Hubert 
to  follow  me,  I  crept  through  the  narrow  door-way,  and 
throwing  myself  upon  what  proved  a  delightful  down-bed, 
was  soon  in  a  sound  slumber. 


XXVIII. 

I  awoke  early  in  the  morning,  notwithstanding  the  fatigue 
of  the  previous  day.  I  lay  for  some  time  in  a  dreamy  rev- 
ery,  revolving  every  incident  which  had  occurred  to  me  since 
1  entered  the  highlands.     Then  my  thoughts  strayed  back  to 


SAINT  LEGER. 


713 


Warwickshire,  to  my  home  in  "merrie  England;"  and  a 
chill  came  over  my  spirits  when  I  thought  how  far  I  had  wan- 
dered, and  where  I  was.  I  asked  myself  what  had  brought 
me  hither ;  a  youth  little  acquainted  with  the  world,  making 
a  tour  of  pleasure  to  this  wild  and  almost  inaccessible  region ; 
how  strange  the  conceit — how  singular  the  motive  !  And 
then  that  same  pale-faced  Destiny  which  so  often  haunted 
me,  whispered  that  something  should  come  to  pass  in  this 
island  which  would  tell  upon  my  future  :  what  it  was,  I  dared 
not  surmise.  Was  I  then  at  the  wished-for  spot !  Was  the 
hour  so  soon  at  hand  1  My  mind  rallied  under  these  exciting 
thoughts,  and  not  caring  for  longer  repose,  I  rose,  leaving 
Hubert  still  sleeping,  repeating  as  T  arranged  my  dress  the 
words  of  Prospero  : 

"  Now  does  my  project  gather  to  a  head : 
My  charms  crack  not ;  my  spirits  obey  ;  and  time 
Goes  upright  with  his  carriage.     How's  the  day  1" 

As  I  had  no  "dainty  Ariel"  to  answer  the  question,  T  step- 
ped boldly  out  to  see  for  myself.  The  morning  had  just 
dawned,  and  the  rays  of  light  emerging  from  the  east  were 
fast  extending  over  the  horizon.  None  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  village  were  as  yet  visible ;  so  I  stood  upon  the  lofty 
Hirta  solitary  and  alone  !  I  walked  at  first  toward  the  sea, 
keeping  to  the  southward  of  where  we  had  landed.  Here  T 
had  a  good  view  of  the  whole  northeastern  part  of  St.  Kilda. 
How  grand,  how  terribly  impressive,  was  the  scene  !  On  all 
sides,  so  far  as  my  view  extended,  the  island  was  girt  about 
with  an  immense  perpendicular  breastwork  of  solid  rock,  to 
look  down  whose  toppling  height  the  head  swam,  and  the 
brain  grew  dizzy.  Defying  storm  and  wind  and  ocean,  ages 
upon  ages  it  had  remained  a  representative  of  earth  ;  an  out- 
er sentinel,  successfully  resisting  the  enemy ;  casting  back 
triumphantly  the  waves  which  sought  to  overwhelm  it,  and  do- 


114  SAINT  LEGER. 

fying  the  utmost  fury  of  the  tempest.  During  every  change 
of  season,  by  day  and  by  night,  while  its  inhabitants  slumbered, 
and  while  they  were  awake,  the  towering  cliffs  of  Hirta  stood 
unshaken  and  immoveable. 

After  sun-eying  for  a  time  this  impressive  scene,  I  turned 
back  to  the  village.  My  first  impulse  was  to  call  Hubert, 
and  propose  to  him  an  immediate  exploration  of  the  whole 
island ;  on  second  thoughts  I  determined  to  go  by  myself.  I 
had  got  from  the  steward  a  general  idea  of  the  different  local- 
ities, and  as  the  island  was  but  some  three  miles  long,  and 
only  two  broad,  I  had  little  fear  of  losing  myself.  Ascertain- 
ing, therefore,  as  near  as  I  could,  the  points  of  compass,  I 
took  a  course  nearly  west,  as  the  prospect  was  more  inviting 
in  that  direction,  and  appeared  less  obstructed  by  hills,  which 
in  some  parts  of  St.  Kilda  rise  to  an  immense  height. 

Proceeding  about  a  mile,  I  encountered  one  of  these  eleva- 
tions, which  by  dint  of  extra  exertion  I  soon  passed,  and  de- 
scending from  the  other  side  into  a  most  delightful  valley, 
found  myself  within  half  a  mile  of  the  ocean.  1  followed  a 
small,  winding  rivulet  which  flowed  through  the  valley  until 
it  emptied  itself  into  the  sea.  Here  the  soil  was  exuber- 
ant; the  ground  was  covered  with  an  almost  infinite  va- 
riety of  the  richest  plants,  including  the  white  and  red  clover 
the  daisy,  crowfoot,  and  dandelion,  and  plantains  of  every  sort. 
I  was  surprised  to  find  a  spot  of  so  much  beauty  where  I  had 
expected  to  see  only  wild  and  uncultivated  hills,  or  bleak 
rocks  and  waste  ground.  I  stood  near  the  edge  of  the  shore; 
for  where  the  stream  fell  into  the  sea  there  was  some  appear- 
ance of  a  landing-place  ;  indeed  the  steward  had  told  me  that 
on  the  northwest  part  of  the  island  there  was  a  spot  where 
the  inhabitants,  when  forced  to  so  dangerous  an  experiment, 
made  shift  to  put  in,  and  I  believed  from  his  description  that 
this  was  the  place.     So  much,  however,  was  I  enchanted  by 


SAINT  LEGER.  H5 

the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  little  valley  through  which  I  had 
strayed,  that  I  turned  away  from  the  bold  and  magnificent 
view  of  rock  and  ocean  to  gaze  upon  it;  and  so  abstracted 
did  I  become  in  the  contemplation,  that  I  did  not  notice  a 
boat  which  had  in  the  meantime  approached  the  shore,  and 
was  attempting  to  land.  Not  wishing  to  be  seen  by  those  on 
board,  I  stepped  aside  and  took  a  position  where  I  could 
have  a  fair  view  of  them,  without  being  observed.  There 
were  but  three  persons  in  the  boat,  two  of  whom  managed 
the  craft,  while  the  third  steered.  From  the  distance  at  which 
I  stood,  they  did  not  appear  to  be  inhabitants  of  St.  Kilda, 
and  apparently  they  were  not  fishermen. 

As  the  boat  approached  the  shore,  it  was  hid  from  sight  by 
some  rocks  which  were  brought  between  me  and  it.  I  still 
kept  my  position,  and  awaited  the  issue  of  what  now  looked 
likely  to  turn  out  an  adventure.  After  several  minutes  I  per- 
ceived two  of  the  party  clambering  up  a  steep  ledge,  some 
distance  below  me ;  and  on  reaching  the  top,  proceed  in  an 
opposite  direction  from  where  I  was  standing,  and  conse- 
quently not  in  a  way  to  gain  the  village.  My  curiosity  was 
aroused ;  so  I  followed  slowly  after,  carefully  keeping  out 
of  sight,  yet  endeavoring  not  to  lose  track  of  my  men.  I 
went  on  in  this  way  for  some  five  minutes,  when  they  disap- 
peared behind  the  cleft  of  a  huge  rock,  and  I  saw  them  no 
more.  I  walked  cautiously  forward  till  I  passed  the  rock  in 
question,  but  found  no  one ;  I  still  persevered,  but  without 
making  any  discovery,  and  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up*the 
search,  when  I  noticed  a  small  grotto,  partially  in  ruins,  the 
walls  and  part  of  the  roof  of  which  were  still  standing,  so  as 
to  afford  sufficient  protection  from  storm  and  bad  weather. 
Through  an  aperture  on  the  side  toward  me,  I  beheld  the 
figures  of  two  or  more  persons,  but  could  not  decide  whether 
they  were  those  I  had  previously  seen.     I  stole  cautiously  up 


116 


SAINT  LEGER. 


till  I  reached  the  grotto,  and  looked  in.  I  saw  two  persons ; 
the  one  whose  face  was  toward  me  was  a  beautiful  girl,  ap- 
parently about  nineteen  ;  she  was  engaged  in  earnest  conver- 
sation with  a  man,  whose  countenance  was  turned  from  me. 
The  girl  was  considerably  above  the  medium  height;  she 
wore  a  Spanish  mantilla,  richly  ornamented,  which  was 
thrown  entirely  back,  displaying  a  face  of  great  beauty ;  deep, 
dark,  passionate  eyes;  regular  features,  and  a  mouth  the  most 
expressive  I  ever  saw.  Her  hair,  which  was  black,  and  parted 
plain  across  her  forehead,  was  exquisitely  braided  and  secured 
behind  by  a  ring  and  arrow  of  gold.  The  man — but  I  need 
not  describe  him,  for  as  he  turned  partially  round  I  saw  his 
side-face,  and  perceived  that  it  was  —  Vautrey  ! 

I  stood  petrified  with  astonishment.  I  could  not  believe 
the  evidence  of  my  own  senses.  I  began  to  think  I  was 
dreaming,  and  that  I  might  presently  awake  and  find  myself 
upon  the  bed  in  the  minister's  dwelling.  But  no ;  this  was 
no  illusion.  I  could  not  mistake ;  the  scene  before  me  was 
real ;  and  at  the  risk  of  being  discovered,  I  leaned  forward  to 
get  a  better  view  of  the  parties ;  as  I  did  so,  these  words  met 
my  ear : 

"  Remember,  count,  this  is  the  last  time." 

"Unless,  signora,  you  can  be  persuaded  to  change  your 
mind,"  was  the  reply  of  Vautrey,  in  a  tone  so  soft  and  so  in- 
sinuating that  I  scarcely  recognised  it. 

"Never,  so  help  me  Heaven  !"  exclaimed  the  girl,  impetu- 
ously ;  "  I  can  not,  do  not,  will  not  love  you ;  and  you  shall 
no  longer  persecute  me.  What  if  my  father  knew  of  these 
meetings  ?  What  if  he  knew  that  you  had  come  hither  after 
what  he  has  so  fearfully  sworn  1" 

'•What  if  he  did?"  interrupted  Vautrey,  in  his  natural, 
sneering  tone;  "what  if  he  did  ?  Is  the  Wcedallah  my 
keeper  ?" 

"Enough,"    returned    the    girl,   with  dignity;    "enough: 


SAINT  LEGER. 


117 


such  a  tone  and  such  an  answer  best  become  you.  We  part," 
she  added,  as  she  turned  to  leave  the  grotto,  "never  to  meet 
again  in  this  way." 

"Not  thus,  not  thus,"  replied  Vautrey,  in  a  gentle  tone; 
"you  must  not,  you  can  not  leave  me  thus.  Remember  what 
we  have  been  to  each  other.  Have  you  forgotten  the  season 
spent  in  Genoa?     Do  you  never  think  of  Naples'?" 

"Never  without  a  shudder,  Vautrey,"  replied  the  girl,  for 
the  first  time  calling  the  count  byname;  "and  it  is  despicable 
in  you  now  to  allude  to  the  past.     Away  !  I  despise  you." 

A  bitter  exclamation  escaped  the  count.  He  raised  his 
finger  in  a  menacing  attitude:  "Leila,"  said  he,  "though  a 
woman,  you  may  provoke  my  vengeance.     Beware  !" 

"A  woman  derides  your  vengeance,  count,  even  while  you 
threaten  it,"  said  the  maiden,  scornfully ;  so  saying,  she  turn- 
ed again  to  depart.  I  stepped  hastily  back  in  order  to  escape 
observation ;  as  I  did  so,  I  met  a  pair  of  wild,  sharp-looking, 
piercing  black  eyes  glaring  intently  upon  me  from  behind  a 
thick  clump  of  low  bushes,  with  a  gaze  so  fixed,  that  it  seemed 
to  belong  to  some  spirit  of  darkness.  As  may  be  supposed, 
at  the  first  sight  of  this  unlooked-for  apparition,  my  blood  ran 
cold  ;  but  I  was  not  daunted,  although  surprised  and  shocked. 
It  was  evident  that  I  had  been  noticed ;  yet  I  endeavored 
to  be  cool.  Keeping  my  eye,  therefore,  boldly  on  this 
strange  being,  I  slowly  made  good  my  retreat.  The  savage, 
as  I  took  him  to  be,  moved  not,  stirred  not,  till  I  was  about 
disappearing,  when  he  made  a  significant  gesture  toward  the 
grotto,  nodded  his  head,  and  waved  his  hand  impatiently,  as 
if  to  hasten  me  away.  I  did  not  need  such  a  hint,  but  ma- 
king what  speed  I  could,  I  turned  back  the  way  I  came,  nor 
did  I  slacken  my  pace  until  I  was  in  sight  of  the  village. 

At  the  door  of  the  minister's  dwelling  I  met  Hubert,  who 
exclaimed,  "  Thank  God,  Saint  Leger,  you  are  safe.  Pray 
tell  me  where  you  have  been,  and  what  has  happened  to  you. 


118  SAINT  LEGER. 

I  missed  you  when  I  first  woke;  we  have  inquired  at  every 
house,  or  rather  hovel ;  have  searched  at  the  landing-place, 
and  everywhere  else,  and  I  had  begun  to  be  seriously  alarmed. 
This  was  unfair  to  steal  away  from  me,  and  take  the  first  sur- 
vey alone.  But,  tell  me ;  something  has  happened,  I  know. 
What  have  you  seen?     Come,  out  with  it." 

" I  have  seen  Vautrey,"  said  I;  and  thereupon  I  related 
to  Hubert  minutely  all  that  I  had  witnessed  that  morning,  al- 
though I  was  first  tempted  to  keep  the  matter  to  myself;  but 
I  thought  it  was  not  treating  my  cousin  with  the  ingenuousness 
he  deserved.  Hubert  looked  very  serious  for  a  moment ;  then 
his  boyish  love  of  adventure  got  the  better  of  every  other 
feeling,  and  he  clapped  his  hands  with  delight  : 

"Now  for  something  that  is  worth  the  chase,"  cried  he; 
"  now,  Count  Vautrey,  have  a  care.  We  are  no  longer  at 
Glencoe.  Three  in  the  boat  ?  we  will  match  them  :  Christie 
is  a  host,  of  himself,  and  the  two  MacDonalds  are  no  cow- 
ards. Yes,  I  was  right;  Vautrey  is — yes,  he  is — the  devil! 
No  embodiment,  but  very  Satan  !  Come,  Saint  Leger,  here 
is  a  compact  for  you  :  the  girl  is  yours,  by  right  of  discovery; 
besides,  you  have  got  a  clue  to  that  ever-to-be-remembered 
Wcedallah,  which  strengthens  your  title.  But  Vautrey,  mark 
me,  is  mine,  and  you  are  not  to  interfere  with  me  there." 

"  You  meditate  no  violence,  Hubert !"  I  replied,  alarmed 
oy  his  emphatic  tone. 

"I  am  a  Moncrieff ;"  replied  my  cousin,  proudly. 

"  Enough  ;"  was  my  response ;  "  there  shall  be,  as  there  ever 
has  been,  confidence  between  us." 

"  We  have  said  it,"  cried  Hubert,  "and  now  let  us  break 
our  fast,  for  I  have  waited  for  you,  and  am  hungry  enough 
to  devour  a  solan-goose  alive.  First,  let  us  satisfy  our  hun- 
ger, and  then,  come  Vautrey,  Wcedallah,  Circe,  Syren,  Cali- 
ban, and  the  foul  fiend  !" 


3AINT  LEGER.  H<) 


XXIX. 

I  must  go  back  a  little,  to  resume  the  history  of  my  inner 
life.  Bear  with  me,  though  you  may  have  become  more  or 
less  interested  in  the  incidents  of  the  last  few  chapters. 
Recollect  our  compact  when,  declining  to  pait  company  with 
me,  as  I  advised  you  many  pages  back,  you  ran  the  risk  of 
suffering  the  penalty  of  a  dull  companionship,  if  you  should 
uot  be  able  to  sympathize  in  my  feelings.  Once  more  I  give 
you  an  opportunity  to  bid  "Adieu!"  —  once  more  I  say; 
expect  nothing  but  facts. 

When  Glenfinglas  was  struck  down  by  Vautrey,  my  whole 
moral  nature  was  strongly  affected.  Fearfully  impressed  by 
the  malignant  passions  manifested  by  the  latter,  my  soul  in- 
stinctively sought  refuge  in  God  its  creator.  Like  an  inex- 
perienced child  which  has  strayed  fur  the  first  time  out  of 
sight  of  the  parent,  enjoying  from  the  novelty,  everything 
within  its  observation  ;  till,  frightened  by  some  untoward  oc- 
currence, it  runs  hurrying  back,  oppressed  and  terrified,  de- 
siring only  to  be  secure  in  those  loved  arms,  never  again  to 
wander  away ;  so  it  was  with  me  :  I  poured  out  my  heart 
unto  God  afresh  ;  I  prayed  and  was  comforted.  How  happy 
was  I  in  forming  new  resolutions  for  the  conduct  of  my  fu- 
ture. Earnestly  did  I  pray  to  be  guided  aright ;  earnestly 
did  I  supplicate  not  to  be  abandoned  to  temptation.  For  a 
few  days  I  enjoyed  a  serene  peace  of  mind ;  then  something 
like  ennui  began  to  take  the  place  of  it ;  then  my  old  heart- 
pangs  slowly  returned,  leaving  their  leaden  load  in  the  very 
centre  of  my  young  heart.  Then  I  sought  relief  in  my  Bible 
and  in  prayer  in  vain  ;  and  then  again  I  ceased  to  pray,  seek- 
ing to  cheer  my  spirits  in  a  thousand  exciting  ways.     The 


120  SAINT  LEGER. 

voyage  to  St.  Kilda  had  broken  in  so  completely  upon  my 
former  habits,  both  physical  and  mental,  that  good  appeared 
likely  to  grow  out  of  it.  Yet  I  had  no  opportunity  in  such  a 
voyage  for  reflection.  But  I  did  think  sometimes.  There 
were  occasional  texts  of  Scripture  which  would  for  weeks  be 
ever  present  to  my  mind,  and  which,  in  spite  of  me,  I  could 
not  help  almost  constantly  repeating.  I  distinctly  remember 
the  following  to  have  been  among  the  number : 

"O  Ephraim,  what  shall  1  do  unto  thee? 
O  Judah,  what  shall  I  do  unto  thee? 
For  your  goodness  is  as  a  morning  cload, 
And  as  the  early  dew  it  goetu  away." 


"  And  the  last  state  of  that  man  is  worse  than  the  first." 

These  solemn  passages  of  scripture  were  at  that  time  con- 
tinually in  my  mind.  They  stood  out  in  my  imagination  like 
the  handwriting  upon  the  wall.  I  felt  condemned;  my  for- 
mer terrors  revived;  my  soul  was  in  darkness.  I  found  my- 
self suddenly  thrown  back  to  my  old  ground.  I  had  travelled 
through  so  many  mental  changes  only  to  find  myself  at 
the  starting-place.  In  the  meantime,  I  began  to  understand 
the  world  something  better.  I  saw  pleasure  and  enjoyment  in 
it.  Sin,  to  be  sure  as  did  Satan,  came  also ;  but  there  was 
gratification  nevertheless.  I  now  felt  the  seductive  influence 
of  the  god  of  this  world  creeping  slowly  upon  me.  It  was  as 
yet  only  the  foretaste  of  what  I  was  to  experience,  but  the 
poison  had  begun  to  work.  The  fiend  Vautrey  had  roused 
strange  feelings  in  my  bosom.  I  hated  him  and  despised  him  ; 
but  with  all  that,  I  envied  him.  Yes,  I  envied  him  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  world,  of  life,  and  for  all  that  he  had  seen  and  ex- 
perienced. Besides,  my  soul  longed  for  gratification,  and  I 
envied  him  for  what  he  had  enjoyed.  So  strictly  had  I  dealt 
with  myself  that  it  seemed  as  if  sinning  with  a  high  hand 
would  act  upon  my  nature  as  a  moral  alterative,  and  prove 


SAINT  LEGER.  121 

of  healthful  influence.  Like  the  convalescent  who  has  been 
confined  for  weeks  to  a  low  diet,  and  who  hankers  for  high- 
seasoned  and  rich-flavored  food,  even  so  I  yearned  after  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  longing  "  to  roll  sin  as  a  pleasant  morsel 
under  my  tongue."  Alas  ;  what  had  become  of  all  my  good 
resolutions ;  my  enlarged  plans  for  benevolent  action ;  my 
earnest  desires  to  benefit  my  kind  ;  my  rules  for  self-improve- 
ment 1     How  strangely  vanished.     How  suddenly  forgotten. 

"How  is  the  gold  become  dim! 
How  is  the  most  fine  gold  changed !" 

was  the  lamentation  of  the  prophet,  and  bitterly  did  I  after- 
ward take  it  up.  Bear  in  mind  that  I  am  inditing  this 
story  several  years  subsequent  to  these  events.  I  do  not 
wish  it  to  be  understood  that  I  came  to  an  open  avowed  res- 
olution to  commit  or  to  live  in  sin ;  such  nevertheless  was  my 
private  secret  conclusion,  kept  secret  even  from  myself;  for 
the  arch  enemy,  when  he  would  most  successfully  enslave  the 
soul,  inculcates  the  Christian  rule : 

"  Let  not  thy  left  hand  know  what  thy  right  hand  doeth." 

Now  that  all  has  come  to  pass,  I  can  speak  understandingly. 
As  I  have  before  said,  I  write  for  the  young ;  for  those  whose 
sympathies  are  not  yet  destroyed.  Hearken,  then,  to  my  ap- 
peal. Read  and  reflect  upon  my  history,  and  pray  God  it 
may  prove  to  thee  an  instructive  lesson ;  and  may  that  lesson 
not  have  come  too  late. 

Thus  much  at  present  of  my  inner  life.  It  may  appear  in- 
consistent with  what  I  write  of  my  external.  But  again  I  re- 
oeat.  the  record  is  true. 


122  SAINT  LEGER. 


XXX. 


After  we  had  breakfasted,  Hubert  and  myself  sat  down 
to  a  protracted  conference,  rendered  necessary,  as  we  thought, 
by  my  report  of  the  extraordinary  occurrence  of  the  morning. 
In  this  conference  we  discussed  matters  of  high  importance. 
We  certainly  had  many  difficult  questions  to  pass  upon.  In 
the  first  place,  who  could  that  beautiful  girl  be  1  What  had 
sent  her  to  this  remote  spot  ?  Who  was  her  protector  ? 
Then,  what  had  she  to  do  with  Vautrey ;  what  was  Vautrey 
doing  here  ;  and  who  and  how  many  were  in  his  company  ? 
.Such  were  the  points  canvassed  over  and  over  by  ns,  but 
about  which  we  could  come  to  no  satisfactory  conclusion.  I 
now  told  Hubert  why  I  had  been  so  inquisitive  about  the 
word  "  Wcedallah,"  and  we  both  agreed  that  the  package  of 
Aunt  Alice  might  prove  of  much  assistance  to  us.  In  the 
meantime,  we  undertook  to  get  all  possible  information  from 
the  missionary  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  island.  Christie  also 
was  to  be  put  on  the  scent,  and  his  two  followers  if  necessary; 
and  thus  the  campaign  commenced. 

We  spent  part  of  the  day  in  the  company  of  the  worthy, 
Mr.  David  Cantyre,  whose  hospitality  had  been  so  freely 
tend  sred,  and  who  did  all  in  his  power  to  render  our  visit 
agreeable.  From  him  we  received  a  minute  account  of  the 
island  and  its  inhabitants,  which  would  have  afforded  me  at 
any  other  time  abundant  source  of  entertainment;  but  after 
the  exciting  events  of  the  morning,  I  found  it  difficult  to  fix 
my  attention  upon  anything  else.  I  forbore  to  question  the 
minister  about  that  which  I  most  desired  to  know,  until  I  had 
gained  further  upon  his  intimacy.     To  this  end  I  asked  him 


SAINT  LEGER.  123 

about  his  own  personal  history ;  and,  in  order  to  draw  him 
out,  ventured  to  express  my  wonder  that  he  should  have 
consented  to  bury  himself  in  such  a  remote  spot,  cut  off  from 
all  communication  with  the  world,  and  enjoying  nothing  like 
refined  society,  or  the  pleasant  intercourse  of  friends.  To 
this  the  minister  replied,  that  no  sacrifice  was  too  great  which 
the  cause  of  Christ  demanded;  and  that  in  the  performance 
of  his  simple  duties  he  derived  a  lively  satisfaction  which  to 
him  was  beyond  all  price.  He  recounted  much  of  his  past 
life,  gave  an  account  of  his  first  landing  at  St.  Kilda,  and  of 
what  he  had  done  and  hoped  to  do  among  the  inhabitants. 
Altogether,  the  minister  was  a  man  to  be  loved  and  respected. 
And  the  contemplation  of  such  a  character  might,  under  other 
circumstances,  have  deeply  impressed  me ;  but  now  nothing 
coidd  divert  me  from  the  pursuit  in  which  I  was  embarked ;  ■ 
I  do  believe  that  nothing,  not  even  the  fear  of  everlasting 
perdition,  would  have  forced  me  to  abandon  it.  Hubert, 
in  the  meanwhile,  had  conferred  with  Christie,  and  Christie 
had  promised  soon  to  give  us  all  the  information  we  desired. 
His  opinion  was,  that  Vautrey,  had  taken  possession  of  some 
one  of  the  small  rocky  islands  near  St.  Kilda,  perhaps  Boreray 
or  Soay.  He  was  told  that  a  strange  boat  had  been  seen  for 
two  or  three  weeks  past  hovering  about  the  island,  and  it  was 
at  first  supposed  when  we  landed  that  it  belonged  to  us. 
Hubert  communicated  nothing  further  to  Christie,  except  his 
desire  for  immediate  information;  and  in  such  a  case  where, 
as  the  faithful  old  follower  believed,  the  honor  of  his  young 
master  was  al  stake,  to  hear  was  to  obey.  The  next  day, 
Hubert  and  myself  set  out  on  a  tour  of  observation.  We 
visited  some  of  the  prominent  localities  of  the  island.  We 
climbed  together  the  lofty  Conagra,  which  rises  with  fearful 
abruptness  from  the  head  of  the  bay  to  a  height  of  nearly  six  ■ 
thousand  feet,  commanding  from  its  summit  a  view  of  nore 


124 


SAINT  LEGER. 


than  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  in  extent.  Thence  we  took 
a  survey  of  the  entire  coast.  There  was  nothing  which  could 
be  called  a  harbor  belonging  to  the  island,  and  but  two  places 
where  it  was  even  possible  to  land ;  the  first  was  near  the 
village,  the  other  was  at  the  spot  where  I  had  seen  Vautrey 
put  in.  The  island  was  full  of  little  cells  or  grottoes,  like  the 
one  I  have  mentioned,  which  were  evidently  of  great  antiqui- 
ty ;  at  least  we  could  learn  nothing  of  their  origin ;  none  of 
the  inhabitants  could  give  us  any  information  about  them ; 
and  Mr.  David  Cantyre,  to  his  praise  be  it  spoken  (in  view 
of  what  I  suffered  from  Mr.  Alexander  MacLeod),  was  no  an- 
tiquarian. In  making  our  circuit,  we  came  to  the  place  of  my 
previous  adventure  :  we  looked  about  over  rock  and  valley, 
and  into  every  secret  nook,  in  hopes  to  discover  something — 
we  cared  but  little  what — to  throw  light  upon  the  strange 
scene  I  had  witnessed.  But  our  labors  were  fruitless.  The 
grotto  where  Vautrey  and  the  maiden  had  parted,  was  de- 
serted, and  nothing  within  betrayed  that  it  ever  had  been  the 
trysting-place  of  lovers.  We  were  both  disappointed,  and  in 
consequence  began  to  feel  the  fatigues  of  the  day  more  sen- 
sibly. The  route  to  the  village  would  complete  the  circuit  we 
desired  to  make ;  so  we  returned  home,  wearied  but  not  dis- 
couraged. Full  of  resolution  and  youthful  ardor,  we  retired 
to  rest,  determined  on  the  morrow  to  continue  the  search. 


XXXI. 

What  a  wonderful  impression  had  Leila  (yes,  that  was 
the  name  Vautrey  had  pronounced)  made  upon  me.  Nev- 
er had  I  beheld  so  beautiful  a  creature  ;  never  before  wit- 
nessed such  grace,  such  exquisite  perfection,  such  incompara- 
ble charms.  I  remembered  with  singular  minuteness  every 
look,  and  every  expression,  every  feature  and  every  linei- 


SAINT  LEGER.  125 

ment  of  her  face ;  and  the  more  I  thought  of  her,  the  more 
impatient  I  became  to  solve  the  mystery.  A  young  maiden, 
dressed  in  a  style  adapted  to  the  most  refined  society,  alone 
in  St.  Kilda  1  Impossible  !  Again,  she  was  known  to  Vaut- 
rey,  and  the  count  had  intimated  in  what  he  said  to  her,  that 
they  had  formerly  been  friends ;  how  my  heart  beat  at  the 
thought :  but  it  was  evident  they  were  friends  no  longer. 
The  more  my  mind  dwelt  upon  this  strange  enigma,  the  more 
excited  I  became,  until  I  resolved  to  speculate  no  further,  but 
await  the  result  of  our  investigation.  Hubert  was  up  be- 
times the  next  morning,  and  roused  me.  His  determination 
to  find  Vautrey  was  after  all  occasioned,  as  I  believed,  more 
from  a  natural  desire  to  solve  the  mystery  of  his  presence  at 
St.  Kilda,  than  from  any  feeling  of  revenge  for  the  old  affront. 
Indeed,  what  to  a  youth  of  eighteen  could  be  more  exciting 
than  an  undertaking  of  this  sort  ?  As  Hubert  had  waived  all 
interest  in  the  beautiful  Unknown  (not  having  beheld  her,  he 
could  do  so,  as  I  thought,  the  more  readily),  we  made  an 
equitable  division  of  our  labors,  be  undertaking,  with  the  aid 
of  his  followers,  to  find  Vautrey,  "  dead  or  alive,"  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  and  I  agreeing,  by  no  means  unwillingly,  to  dis- 
cover the  fair  maiden  of  the  grotto.  Leaving  my  cousin  to 
his  plans,  I  set  out  once  more  to  visit  the  delightful  valley, 
which  the  minister  told  me  bore  the  name  of  the  "  Female 
Warrior's  Glen,"  from  an  amazon  very  famous  in  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  island.  I  was  resolved  this  time  to  be  thorough 
in  my  search,  for  I  was  sure  that  there  must  be  a  habitation 
of  some  sort  near  at  hand.  Nor  did  the  result  prove  me  mis- 
taken ;  for  after  traversing  the  valley  in  every  possible  di- 
rection, I  went  around  a  small  ledge  of  rocks,  which  were 
apparently  so  near  the  coast  that  it  had  not  occurred  to  me 
there  could  be  any  considerable  space  beyond.  I  was 
much  surprised  to  discover  there  a  miniature  valley  or  glen, 


126  SAINT  LEGER. 

remarkably  beautiful,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  small 
stone  building. 

1  tiis  picturesque  little  spot  was  presented  so  suddenly  to 
my  view,  that  I  stopped  short  in  amazement,  and  was  for  a 
few  moments  lost  in  admiration  of  its  beauty.  Presently  I 
beheld  a  man  come  from  the  hut,  for  it  was  little  else,  and 
leisurely  advance  a  few  steps,  as  if  to  take  the  air.  Whether 
he  saw  me  or  not,  I  could  not  tell ;  at  any  rate,  he  took  no 
notice  of  me  whatever.  Observing  him  closely,  I  per- 
ceived that  he  was  a  man  past  the  prime  of  life,  perhaps 
fifty  years  of  age ;  he  was  of  middling  stature,  of  rather 
spare  habit  of  body,  having  a  bold,  prominent,  but  narrow 
forehead,  thinly  covered  with  gray  hair.  What  was  remark- 
able, he  was  dressed  with  scrupulous  exactness,  and  in  every 
respect  after  the  English  style,  and  his  garments  were  made 
in  the  fashion  of  the  then  present  season.  My  resolution  was 
taken  :  I  determined  to  accost  the  stranger.  Walking  toward 
him,  I  did  what  I  could  to  attract  his  notice,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose ;  his  eyes  were  turned  in  every  direction  but  toward  me. 
It  was  not  till  I  had  come  close  upon  him,  that  he  recognised 
my  presence.  Begging  pardon  for  the  interruption,  I  asked 
him  the  nearest  route  to  the  village. 

"On  your  honor,  young  man,"  said  the  stranger,  "have 
you  lost  your  way,  or  has  an  idle  curiosity  brought  you 
hither  V 

"  Neither,"  returned  I,  boldly  ;   "  but " 

"  Pass  on,  then,  pass  on !  annoy  me  not  with  the  sight  of  my 
kind.  It  is  burthen  enough  to  endure  myself.  Pass  on, 
pass  on,  and  molest  me  no  further!"  exclaimed  the  stranger, 
waving  his  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  will  not  pass  on,"  said  I,  roused  by  his  tone,  "  till  J  have 
said  what  I  have  to  say  to  you." 

"  What  sends  you  here  V  interrupted  he,  pettishly. 


SAINT  LEGER.  127 

"  Destiny,"  returned  I. 

"  Destiny,"  muttered  the  other;  and  then  continuing,  as  if 
to  himself:  "  To  hear  the  world  prate  of  destiny :  as  if  destiny 
were  a  god  to  direct  and  control :  destiny,  forsooth  :  why, 
destiny  is  what  is."  Then  turning  to  me,  he  added,  "  You 
rave,  young  man." 

I  now  narrowly  examined  the  speaker.  His  appearance 
indicated  the  misanthrope  ;  not  the  misanthrope  by  nature, 
but  one  who  had  been  soured  with  the  world,  perhaps  from 
good  cause :  one  who  had  endured  the  "  slings  and  ar- 
rows of  outrageous  fortune"  until  there  was  no  sensibility 
left  in  his  bosom  T  looked  once  more  at  the  clear  sharp  out- 
line of  forehead,  boldly  developed  (though  narrow),  the 
deep-set,  expressive  gray  eyes,  the  dignified  though  slightly 
petulant  air  :  and  in  all  I  saw  —  shall  I  say  it  ?  —  some  strange,- 
mysterious  resemblance  to — myself.  I  paused — I  trembled; 
I  resolved  on  one  more  trial :  "  In  the  name  of  all  that  you 
hold  sacred,  tell  me,"  I  exclaimed,  "  are  you  called  the  Wced- 
allah  V 

"There  is  nothing  I  hold  sacred,  young  man,"  answered 
the  stranger  ;  "  you  adjure  me  in  vain ;  but  if  it  will  satisfy 
you  to  learn  the  fact,  so  that  you  will  then  leave  me  and  pass 
on  your  way,  I  answer  that  I  am  called  the  Woedallah." 

"  Stay  one  moment,  and  I  have  done,"  I  exclaimed,  per- 
ceiving that  this  singular  man  was  returning  to  his  dwelling ; 
"stay  but  a  single  moment" — and  drawing  forth  the  little 
package  with  which  Aunt  Alice  had  intrusted  me,  I  handed  it 
to  him  without  speaking,  and  awaited  the  effect  it  might  pro- 
duce. He  took  the  parcel,  examined  the  superscription  with- 
out emotion,  and  proceeded  to  open  it.  When  he  beheld  the 
ring,  his  countenance  changed,  first  to  deep  red,  then  to  dead- 
ly pale ;  his  whole  frame  was  convulsed,  his  limbs  trembled, 
his  lips  quivered ;  he  was  evidently  laboring  under  agonizing 
emotion  ;  but  he  recovered  somewhat,  and  proceeded  to  read 


128 


SAINT  LEGEK. 


what  was  written.  This  done,  he  turned  and  looked  at  me 
witli  a  gaze  so  earnest  and  so  penetrating  that  I  almost  shrunk 
from  it.  As  he  looked,  I  thought  I  discovered  tears  start  in 
his  eyes  ;  his  countenance  changed  to  an  expression  of  deep 
melancholy ;  and  pointing  toward  the  door  of  his  dwelling,  he 
said  to  me,  in  a  low,  indistinct  tone,  "  Enter." 

I  obeyed  the  direction,  and  on  going  in,  found  myself  in  a 
small,  but  neatly  furnished  apartment,  in  which  was,  among 
other  articles,  a  well  filled  bookcase  ;  over  it  were  suspended 
a  musket  and  small-arms :  a  sword  and  several  daggers.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  room  :  of  this  I  took  care  to  assure  myself 
when  I  first  entered  ;  and  despite  the  excitement  of  the  mo- 
ment, I  felt  disappointed.  My  host  pointed  to  a  chair,  and  I 
sat  down  ;  he  also  took  a  seat  beside  me,  and  examined  my 
countenance  with  searching  scrutiny.  As  there  was  no  ap- 
pearance of  impertinent  inquisitiveness  in  his  manner,  I  re- 
mained quiet,  resolving  that  I  would  not  be  the  fii-st  to  break 
the  silence. 

"  It  is  even  so,"  observed  he,  at  length,  as  if  communing 
with  himself;  "  it  is  even  so ;  my  eyes  again  behold  a  Saint 
Leger ;  one  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood  is  before  me  ;  and 
although  I  have  forsworn  all,  ay,  everything  upon  the  earth, 
and  all  above  and  all  below,  yet  since  the  race  began,  has 
never  a  Saint  Leger  met  a  Saint  Leger  face  to  face  un- 
acknowledged or  uncared  for,  nor  ever  shall.  But  why 
came  you  hither  V 

As  this  interrogatory  was  addressed  to  me,  I  replied: 
"  Why  I  came  I  know  not,  nor  can  I  give  any  satisfactory  rea- 
son. I  was  about  to  spend  some  time  in  the  highlands,  and 
as  I  was  leaving  Warwickshire,  Aunt  Alice  put  in  my  hands 
the  package  you  now  have.     I  nave  told  you  all." 

"Warwickshire,"  exclaimed  my  kinsman;  "beautiful, 
lovely  Warwickshire  :  its  gentle   Avon,  its  enchanting  land- 


SAINT    LEGER. 


129 


scapes  !  Accursed  be  they,"  continued  he,  in  a  lower  tone, 
"  now  and  for  ever.  Did  you  leave  all  these,  and  to  come 
here  V 

"  I  did  leave  all  these,  and  to  come  here,'"  was  my  calm 
reply.  I  was  about  to  add  something  further,  when  the  door 
of  the  adjoining  apartment  opened,  and  the  beautiful  Leila 
stood  upon  the  threshold. 

XXXII. 

Yes  —  the  beautiful  Leila  stood  upon  the  threshold.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  of  her  identity  with  the  maiden  I  had  seen 
with  Vautrey.  She  stood  motionless,  and  for  a  moment 
seemed  lost  in  astonishment  at  beholding  a  stranger.  She 
was  about  retiring,  when  her  father — for  so  he  proved  to  be^ 
prevented  her  retreat.  "Leila,"  he  said,  "come  hither." 
The  latter  slowly  obeyed  the  summons,  advancing,  without, 
however,  in  the  least  noticing  me.  "  My  child,"  said  the 
Wcedallah,  as  I  will  now  call  him,  "  this  is  our  kinsman,  Wil- 
liam Henry  Saint  Leger,  from  Warwickshire  ;  you  will  re- 
ceive him  as  such." 

The  maiden  drew  herself  up,  made  me  a  distant  salutation, 
which  I  returned  with  equal  hauteur,  and  said  to  her  father 
in  Italian  : 

"  I  beg  you  will  not  force  upon  me  a  new  acquaintance ; 
pray  let  me  retire."  To  which  I  immediately  replied,  "  Un- 
fortunately, mademoiselle,  I  am  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
the  Italian  to  comprehend  what  you  say ;  I  am  equally  un- 
lucky in  understanding  French,  German,  Spanish,  the  dead 
languages,  and  my  mother-tongue.  If  you  will  have  the 
kindness  to  select  any  other,  I  promise  you  I  can  not  play  the 
eaves-droppcr." 

The  girl  was  fairly  taken  by  surprise  at  my  impudence,  and 
9 


130  SATNT  LEGER. 

seemed  for  a  moment  at  a  loss  whether  or  not  to  receive  it  in 
good  part.  The  oddity  of  the  whole  scene,  I  think,  turned 
the  scale  in  my  favor.  Extending  to  me  her  hand,  she  ex- 
claimed : 

"  Since  our  kinsman  has  so  many  weapons  at  command, 
submission  on  our  part  is  discretion.  Welcome,  Mr.  Saint 
Leger,  to  the  rocks  of  St.  Kilda." 

"And  since,"  replied  I,  warmly,  "  I  have  at  last  received  a 
kinsman's  reception,  I  beg  to  make  an  apology  for  my  rude- 
ness." 

"  Enough,"  interrupted  the  Wcedallah,  much  to  my  chagrin  ; 
"  enough  for  this  once,  or  you  will  exceed  bounds.  So  it  is 
ever  with  youth ;  one  extreme  or  the  other ;  now  all  ice,  then 
a  burning  heat ;  ecstasy  or  despair ;  frowning  like  Medusa, 
or  smiling  like  Helen.  Why  should  it  not  be  so  1  What 
would  the  world  come  to,  if  the  young  had  experience  1  To 
an  end,  speedily.  So,  go  on  — go  on;  freeze  and  seethe, 
bubble  and  boil,  till  life  has  ended,  and  not  even  the  vapor 
remains." 

I  stood  regarding  the  speaker  in  mute  astonishment  during 
this  strange  harangue.  When  he  had  concluded,  I  turned  to 
witness  its  effect  upon  L  eila,  but  discovered  that  she  had 
taken  advantage  of  it  to  effect  a  retreat  to  her  own  apartment. 
Feeling  no  desire  to  encourage  conversation  of  this  sort,  I 
resolved  if  possible  to  put  an  end  to  it.  "I  know  not,"  said 
I,  "  to  what  such  remarks  tend,  nor  why  they  are  addressed 
to  me.  Indeed,  why  I  thus  meet  you  I  can  scarce  tell.  You 
invited  me  to  enter,  and  I  did  so.  If  you  are  my  kiusman, 
treat  me  with  the  confidence  our  relationship  merits." 

"If  you  are  my  kinsman  !"  echoed  the  Wcedallah,  rising 
and  regarding  me  with  a  searching,  anxious  look  :  "  misera- 
ble boy,  do  you  doubt  it  1  Or — is  it  possible  ?  —  can  I  have 
been  deceived  ?"  he  continued,  again  scrutinizing  my  features. 


SAINT  LEGER.  131 

"  No,  no  —  it  can  not  be."  Taking  the  ring,  which  I  had  de- 
livered, from  its  envelope  and  again  reading  what  was  within, 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  louder  tone,  "Ay,  ay,  receive  him — receive 
him  ;  but — but  poison  not  his  soul — for  it  may  not  be." 

His  appearance  all  this  time  was  so  like  a  madman's,  that 
I  turned  away  my  face  in  horror.  The  Wcedallah  paused, 
and  then  addressed  me  precisely  as  if  not  one  word  had  been 
uttered  by  him,  and  I  doubt  much  if  he  was  conscious  of 
having  spoken. 

"  The  confidence  you  ask,"  he  said,  calmly,  "  shall  be  ex- 
tended to  you.  Indeed,  you  have  a  right  to  demand  it.  But 
first  tell  me  how  fare  all  at  —  Bertold  Castle.  Your  father 
and  your  mother  ]  You  have  a  brother  and  a  sister  also  ;  are 
they  well]  And — and  Aunt  Alice,  as  you  call  her — 
bears  she  her  years  bravely  ]  Has  time  left  many  marks' 
upon  her  frame]— but  her  spirit  will  resist  the  spoiler 
for  ever  and  for  ever — tell  me,  how  is  she]  Then  she  knew 
of  your  coming  hither,  and  gave  you  these  V 

One  question  had  followed  another  in  such  rapid  succes- 
sion that  I  could  not  reply  to  any  till  the  questioner  paused. 
I  then  answered  particularly  as  to  our  family,  stating,  as  I 
had  previously  done,  that  my  visit  to  St.  Kilda  was  almost 
accidental. 

"Did  she  not  tell  you  that  I  was  here]"  was  the  next 
question. 

"  She  did  not,"  was  my  reply. 

"It  is  strange;  yet  not  strange,"  he  continued;  "but  I 
embarrass  you.  I  am  in  fault.  And  so  you  struck  boldly  for 
Hirta.     A  hardy  enterprise:  how  old  are  you  V 

I  staled  my  age.  "So  young — I  pity  thee:  I  supposed 
thou  hadjBt  fewer  years  in  which  to  suffer  ;  but  I  see  thou  hast 
not  begun  to  experience.  Hast  had  any  misgivings,  any 
doubts  ?" 


132  SAINT  LEGER. 

It  seemed  while  I  heard  these  words  from  the  lips  of  a 
kinsman,  words  which  echoed  back  my  own  secret  distrusts 
and  fears,  as  if  the  arch  enemy  stood  before  me,  luring  me 
to  destruction.  I  shrunk  from  the  tempter.  My  better  na- 
ture rallied  to  resist  the  insidious  attack,  and  by  this  I  knew 
how  necessary  was  temptation  to  a  salutary  state  of  mind  and 
heart.     I  answered  calmly  and  with  courage  : 

"  Who  trusts  his  Maker  knows  neither  misgiving  nor 
doubt.     His  providence  protects  from  both." 

"Wait  a  while,"  returned  the  other,  sneeringly,  "and  you 
will  tell  a  different  tale.  Does  Job  fear  God  for  naught  ? 
Have  you  not  youth  and  health  and  senses — a  full  capacity 
for  earthly  enjoyment  1  Does  not  the  blood  go  beating  through 
your  veins  in  the  very  heyday  rapture  of  young  life  ]  Con- 
fidence in  your  Maker,  forsooth  :  say  rather  confidence  in 
your  own  glowing  energy  ;  but  energy  will  wane  by-and-by, 
and  confidence  with  it." 

I  was  startled  at  such  bold  and  impious  language;  but 
my  heart  grew  firm  under  the  attack,  and  I  answered, 
"  And  why  should  not  man  trust  his  Creator  ]  Why  should 
he  have  any  misgivings,  any  doubts,  as  you  call  them,  when 
he  knows  that  Creator  to  be  all-wise,  all-just,  and  all-power- 
ful ?     And  why  should  not  confidence  increase  with  years  V 

"Because  —  because,"  returned  my  kinsman,  impatiently, 
"  neither  in  youth  nor  in  early  manhood  do  we  enjoy  the  fruits 
of  our  labors  ;  because  we  are  put  off,  put  off  till  old  age, 
before  the  reward  cometh ;  until  the  reward  is  known  to  be 
vanity,  and  we  care  not  for  it ;  and  therefore  do  distrust  and 
apprehension  creep  gloomily  over  the  soul." 

"  We  should  carry  the  reward  daily  in  our  bosoms,"  said 
T.  "  He  is  a  supremely  selfish  being  who  looks  to  the  reward 
merely  as  a  reward  and  selfishness  itself  is  very  desolation  to 
the  heart." 


SAINT  LEGER,  I33 

"Ho,  ho,"  shouted  the  other,  scornfully;  "a  philanthropist, 
I  perceive ;  and  universal  benevolence  your  rule  of  action. 
"Wait  till  Sin  has  turned  Virtue  out-of-doors,  and  Folly  has  sent 
Benevolence  to  keep  her  company ;  till  Ingratitude  has  soured 
your  mind,  and  you  have  found  in  your  bosom-friend  a  viper ; 
till  you  have  spent  life's  progress  in  that  utter  toil  of  the  hu- 
man spirit,  and  you  awake,  as  from  a  dream,  the  victim  of 
delusive,  presumptuous  Hope,  and  find  yourself  borne  down  by 
a  stern,  unaccommodating,  unyielding  Necessity  into  deep 
interminable  perdition,  while  the  Maker  whom  you  worship- 
ped— ha,  ha — mocks  'at  your  distresses,  or  coldly  regards 
the  helpless  struggles  of  his  victim,  as  if  he  rejoiced  at  his 
agonies!  Ay,  wait  —  and  the  time  is  short — wait  till  then, 
and  you  also  will  exclaim,  even  as  do  I,  '  Oh,  humanity, 
humanity,  how  truly  do  I  pity  thee.'  " 

During  this  harangue,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  was  en- 
countering Satan  in  bodily  presence.  At  the  same  time  all  the 
strength  of  my  moral  nature  rose  within  me.  I  came  close 
to  the  speaker,  and  boldly  met  his  sarcastic  sneer.  "  Man  !" 
exclaimed  I,  "tempter!  fiend!  avaunt — I  defy  thee.  If  I 
choose  to  do  right  and  be  virtuous,  it  is  not  in  the  power  of 
Omnipotence  to  make  me  miserable.  If  I  choose  to  do  wrong 
and  be  sinful.GrOD  himself  can  not  make  me  happy." 

As  1  pronounced  these  words,  the  Wcedallah  started  up 
and  turned  upon  me  a  countenance  in  which  a  thousand  evil 
spirits  seemed  struggling  for  expression.  Rage  and  hate  and 
tlark  despair  were  stamped  upon  it,  but  he  spoke  not.  Just 
then  the  scroll  which  Aunt  Alice  had  sent  by  me  fell  acci- 
dentally open  upon  the  floor.  I  took  it  up  and  handed  it  to 
him,  at  the  same  time  placing  my  finger  upon  the  words  he 
had  before  repeated,  "  but  poison  not  his  soul."  The  poor 
man  turned  his  eye  upon  the  paper.  All  trace  of  anger  and 
hatred  vanished.     Deep  melancholy  again  took  possession  of 


134  SAINT  LEGER. 

his  features,  and  lie  exclaimed:  "True — ha!  true;  too 
true  !  No  —  I  will  not  —  I  will  not :"  and  rushed  into  the  ad- 
joining apartment. 

I  stood  in  strange  perplexity.  Curious  fantasies  flocked 
through  my  brain.  I  began  to  believe  that  I  was  in  the  abode 
of  some  powerful  necromancer,  who  had  chosen  this  storm- 
beaten  island  for  his  habitation,  and  that  the  fair  Leila  was 
but  the  sorceress  through  whose  blandishments  I  had  been 
lured  to  it.  I  should  not  have  been  much  surprised  to  have 
seen  her  step  forth  a  wrinkled,  ill-favored,  shrivelled  hag.  In 
short,  I  would  most  gladly  have  changed  localities  with  old 
Gonzalo,  whose  isle,  though  "full  of  noises," 

"  Of  elves,  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes  and  groves," 

was  also  filled  with 

"Sounds  and  sweet  airs,  which  give  delight  and  hurt  not." 

How  I  wished  for  something  to  destroy  the  horrible  illusion 
which  was  stealing  over  me.  Had  Hubert  then  made  his  ap- 
pearance, or  had  old  Christie  thrust  his  head  through  the  nar- 
row doorway,  it  would  have  been  an  indescribable  relief. 
What  was  I  to  do  ?  Should  I  leave  in  silence,  and  if  so,  was 
I  privileged  to  return  ? 

At  this  moment,  the  beautiful  Leila,  the  influence  of  whose 
name  had  certainly  caused  the  last  interrogatory,  again  open- 
ed the  door  and  came  into  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Saint  Leger,"  she  said,  "  my  father  desires  that  you 
will  excuse  his  not  seeing  you  again  to-day.  He  has  sud- 
denly been  taken  ill,  and  requests  that  you  will  visit  him  to- 
morrow." 

"  111  ?"  said  I ;  "  nothing  alarming,  I  hope.  Can  I  not  ren- 
der some  assistance  V 

"None,  I  assure  you,"  replied  the  maiden,  "yet  I  must 


SAINT  LEGER.  135 

no1  leave  him  ;"  and  with  rather  a  formal  salutation,  she  dis- 
appeared. 

Nothing  was  left  for  me  but  to  make  my  way  back  to  the 
v'.-lage,  where  I  found  Hubert  impatient  to  see  me. 


XXXIII. 

It  required,  I  acknowledge,  a  great  effort  to  turn  from  the 
exciting  and  intensely  interesting  events  of  the  morning,  to 
give  attention  to  Hubert's  vivacious  account  of  his  doings 
and  discoveries.  At  firs't,  I  could  not  bear  to  have  the  image 
of  Leila  displaced  for  a  moment  from  my  mind,  and  I  listened 
with  so  bad  a  grace  for  the  first  few  moments,  that  Hubert  be- 
gan to  lose  patience.  This  brought  me  to  my  senses ;  and 
promising  to  pay  better  heed,  I  soon  became  interested  in 
his  narrative,  which  I  shall  condense,  leaving  out  nothing  of 
importance. 

He  had  seen  Vautrey.  He  had  discovered  his  whereabout 
in  the  following  manner  :  Christie,  having  been  informed  that 
the  "  strange  boat"  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  in  at  the  north- 
west side  of  the  island,  proceeded  with  Hugh  and  Aleck  to 
watch  its  movements.  They  saw  Vautrey  and  two  others 
leave  the  shore  and  steer  due  north.  Christie  at  once  set 
sail  after  them,  and  managed  to  keep  in  sight  till  he  saw  the 
adventurers  land  at  Boreray.  Returning  at  once,  he  inform- 
er] Hubert  of  his  success,  and  the  whole  party  embarked 
again,  taking  in  three  natives  of  the  island,  with  whom  Christie 
had  become  well  acquainted,  through  his  friend  the  old  her- 
ring cruiser.  It  being  but  some  two  leagues  to  Boreray,  and 
the  day  fine,  the  latter  place  was  quickly  made,  when  all 
hands  landed  except  one,  who  strayed  with  the  boat.  Ac- 
cording to  Hubert's  account,  the  isle  was  "  full  of  wonders ;" 
a  little   more   than   a  mile  in  circumference,  and  girt   about 


!3G  SAINT  LEGER. 

with  rocks  piled  upon  each  other  to  a  prodigious  height.  A 
considerable  number  of  sheep  and  an  innumerable  quantity 
of  sea-fowl  were  its  sole  occupants.  The  St.  Kilda  men  in- 
formed Christie  that  there  was  a  large  stone  dwelling  in  the 
island,  which  Vautrey  had  undoubtedly  converted  to  his  use. 
Thither  Hubert  and  his  company  repaired.  As  was  antici- 
jiated,  they  found  the  place  inhabited ;  and  on  seeking  admis- 
sion, Hubert  and  Count  Vautrey  met.  The  latter  was  com- 
pletely surprised,  and  for  the  first  time  almost  in  his  life  lost 
his  self-possession.  He  evidently  supposed  —  for  when  does 
guilt  ever  rest  undisturbed  in  the  human  bosom — that  Glen- 
finglas  had  not  survived  his  wound,  and  that  highland  retribu- 
tion had  followed  him  thither.  He  scarcely  recognised  the 
presence  of  the  intruders,  but  waited  for  Hubert  to  speak 
first.  The  latter,  forgetting  for  the  moment  their  late  quarrel, 
at  once  relieved  Vautrey  from  his  embarrassment. 

"Count,"  said  he,  "we  have  met  strangely  enough.  My 
voyage  to  St.  Kilda  was  made  without  the  slightest  suspicion 
of  meeting  you  here  ;  and  we  have  to-day  visited  Boreray 
from  curiosity,  understanding,  I  admit,  that  a  strange  boat  had 
landed  in  the  island." 

"  Hubert  Moncrieff,"  returned  Vautrey,  "  as  I  have  said 
before,  I  have  no  cause  for  mortal  quarrel  with  you.  I  have 
felt  no  hatred  toward  you,  neither  had  I  any  enmity  against 
that  dull  fool,  Glenfinglas.  He  bearded  me  ;  if  he  perished, 
he  provoked  his  fate." 

"Not  so  fast,  count,"  said  Hubert,  a  little  piqued;  "the 
life  of  yon  highland  laird  is  not  so  easily  struck  from  his  body, 
although  I  admit  your  skill,  and  doubt  not  that  you  did  your 
best ;  but  believe  me,  Glenfinglas  is  as  good  as  new  ;  ready 
to  wage  his  feud  with  you  for  ever  and  a  day ;  so  take  heed 
how  you  go  near  Kilchurn  Castle." 

"I  am  c;lad,"  said  Vautrey,  "it   is  no   worse.     As  for  his 


SAINT  LEGER.  137 

enmity,  why,  if  he  provokes  me,  I  shall  strike  surer  next  time. 
And  as  for  you,  Moncrieff,  if  you  choose  it  so,  here  is  my 
hand,  in  token  that  the  past  goes  for  nothing." 

It  was  with  no  little  surprise  that  Hubert  perceived  the 
count  adopt  a  tone  so  different  from  his  character  ;  but  as  he 
had  no  time  to  consider  the  subject,  he  received  his  hand  and 
assented,  with  what  readiness  he  could,  to  his  friendly  over- 
ture. During  this  conversation,  Vautrey's  followers  had  en- 
tered the  apartment.  One  of  them  proved  to  be  the  same 
sinister-looking  fellow  that  attended  him  at  Glencoe ;  the 
other  was,  as  Hubert 'expressed  it,  "the  most  perfect  speci- 
men of  goblin-ugliness"  he  ever  beheld ;  "  the  very  imper- 
sonation of  all  that  was  wild,  savage,  and  malicious."  "  It 
was  amusing,"  said  Hubert,  "  to  witness  Christie's  demeanor 
during  the  interview.  He  was  doubtless  anticipating  violence 
of  some  sort ;  and  when  Vautrey's  men  entered,  yon  might 
have  seen  the  old  fellow  take  a  firmer  position ;  his  eyes  di- 
lated, his  muscles  seemed  braced  up  for  duty,  and  his  whole 
person  was  evidently  on  guard ;  while  Hugh  and  Aleck 
closely  watched  his  motions,  prepared,  if  need  be,  for  instant 
service.  The  two  St.  Kilda  men  stood  directly  behind  ready 
for  anything  that  should  be  required."  Without  doubt, 
Vautrey's  consciousness  of  guilt,  and  the  presence  of  superior 
numbers,  caused  him  to  pursue  a  course  which  he  knew  would 
not  fail  to  be  successful  with  one  of  Hubert's  manly  and  gen- 
erous character. 

"As  you  say,"  remarked  the  count,  quietly,  "it  is  strange 
that  we  should  meet  here,  and  by  mere  accident.  Pray,  when 
do  you  return  to  Glencoe  V 

"Oh,"  replied  Hubert,  "we  shall  be  off  in  a  few  days  ;  in- 
deed, I  am  ready  now,  for  I  have  had  enough  of  climbing 
rocks  and  tasting  salt  water ;  but  I  wait  Saint  Leger's  move  * 
ments.     He  planned  the  voyage,  so  I  defer  to  him." 


138  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  Saint  Leger,"  exclaimed  Vautrey,  starting  as  if  a  serpent 
had  stung  him;  "Saint  Leger,  is  he  with  you?"  Hubert 
nodded  assent.  "  Saint  Leger  !  Death  and  damnation !  Hell 
and  furies  !  am  I  to  be  doubly  thwarted  1  A  pretty  story 
you  have  trumped  up,  to  deceive  me  as  to  the  object  of  your 
voyage.  You  think  to  circumvent  me,  and  you  would  accom- 
plish this  by  a  low  deception.  'Met  by  accident' — ha,  ha. 
This,  then,  is  the  boasted  faith  of  a  MoncriefF.  A  petty  sub- 
terfuge, and  a  lie  with  a  circumstance." 

"Vautrey,"  said  Hubert,  pallid  with  suppressed  passion, 
but  at  the  same  time  very  calm  ;  "Vautrey,  I  repeat  what 
I  have  said:  and  I  add  besides,  that  neither  Saint  Leger 
nor  myself  had  the  slightest  suspicion  that  you  were  in  St. 
Kilda  when  we  landed  here.  And  now,  unless  you  retract 
upon  the  spot  the  opprobrious  words  you  have  dared  to  utter 
against  my  honor  and  my  name,  mark  me,  Vautrey,  you 
die  —  ay,  you  die  like  a  dog;  for  I  will  not  contaminate 
myself;  but  you  shall  be  ignominiously  put  to  death  by  my 
followers  ;  overpowered  by  numbers,  if  you  choose  so  to  call 
it,  as  a  noxious  animal  is  hunted  down,  and  his  carrion  carcass 
thrown  out  to  feed  the  vultures." 

While  Hubert  was  speaking,  Vautrey  stood  like  some  ma- 
lignant fiend,  whose  plans  of  wickedness  have  suddenly  been 
discovered  and  frustrated.  He  even  ground  his  teeth  with 
rage,  but  did  not  change  his  position,  except  to  glance  toward 
his  men,  only  one  of  whom  remained  near  him.  The  savage 
had  just  before  retreated  into  the  next  apartment. 

Quick  as  thought  Vautrey's  whole  demeanor  changed. 
Again  he  assumed  a  frank  and  open,  though  calm  manner  : 
"MoncriefF,"  said  he,  "you  were  right — I  was  wrong.  In 
this  case,  I  was  the  first  to  provoke  you  by  unreasonable  and 
improper  accusation ;  still,  as  you  may  perhaps  know,  this 
same  Saint  Leger  and  myself  are  no  friends  :  and,  excuse  me, 


SAINT  LEGER.  I39 

there  was  a  particular  reason  why  the  mention  of  his  name 
just  then  should  annoy,  nay,  very  much  disturb  me.  Let  it 
pass.  You  were  excited,  and  threatened  me.  You  were  in 
the  right ;  so  let  that  pass.  I  believe  you  will  not  deny  to 
me  personal  courage ;  and  that,  fearing  as  I  do,  neither  man 
nor  devil,  you  will  credit  the  concessions  I  make  to  the  right 
motive.  Tf  this  does  not  satisfy  you.  come  on;  the  stag  is  at 
bay :  Laurent  de  Vautrey  will  die  as  he  has  lived,  defying 
his  enemies." 

"  There  was  something  about  this  speech,"  said  Hubert, 
"there  was  something  about  Vautrey's  manner,  which  almost 
convinced  me  that  he  spoke  as  he  felt,  although  I  remember- 
ed your  explanation  of  his  character  :  that  he  had  no  feeling, 
and  spoke  only  as  he  ought  to  feel.  Still,  I  could  not  appear 
otherwise  than  satisfied  with  his  retraction.  I  therefore  told, 
him  I  was  glad  to  hear  him  take  back  so  foul  a  slander,  and 
that  what  had  passed  between  us  I  was  willing  should  be  for- 
gotten. So,  after  a  little  unimportant  conversation,  carried 
on  with  restraint,  we  took  leave  of  this  forty-fifth  cousin  of 
ours,  who  was  all  the  time,  I  know,  secretly  cursing  me  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart.  Depend  upon  it,  we  shall  have  trou- 
ble with  that  fellow.  But  he  need  not  think  to  deceive  me 
by  this  hypocritical  reconciliation.  His  eyes  were  full  of  the 
venom  of  the  damned,  while  he  was  pretending  a  great  desire 
for  peace  and  amity.  He  came  near  his  end,  I  assure  you. 
Christie  had  advanced  half  a  pace  in  front,  and  was  longing 
to  begin.  But  it  is  best  ended  as  it  is  —  if  we  have  indeed 
seen  the  end.  Now,  Saint  Leger,  what  word  from  you? 
What  of  our  beautiful  storm-nymph,  and  the  old  surly  storm- 
king,  her  father  1  See  if  you  can  surpass  me  in  the  recital 
of  the  marvellous." 

1  was  particularly  disinclined  to  give  to  any  one   an  ac- 
count of  the  scene  between  my  kinsman  and  myself,  so  I 


140  SAINT  LEGER. 

treated  Hubert  to  a  general  outline,  concluding  by  inform- 
ing him  that  I  was  to  have  another  interview  on  the  morrow. 

"Well,"  said  Hubert,  "for  my  part,  I  have  had  enough  of 
St.  Kilda.  Our  adventures  appear  pretty  well  over,  unless 
you  are  yet  to  make  something  out  of  yon  dark-eyed  damsel, 

or    the   old pshaw,    I   never   can   remember  that  word. 

Who  knows,  by  the  way,  but  he  keeps  the  young  girl  pent  up 
in  this  desolate  place  against  her  will  ?  What  say  you  to  ef- 
fecting her  deliverance,  and  then  '  up  stick'  and  away  1  Seri- 
ously, though,  when  shall  we  be  off?  I  want  to  witness  a 
hunt  for  birds'-eggs,  which  I  am  told  is  a  wonderful  affair ; 
and  we  shall  have  one,  Christie  says,  in  two  or  three  days ; 
after  that,  what  say  you  for  Glencoe  V 

I  mechanically  gave  my  assent  to  whatever  Hubert  sug- 
gested, for  my  mind  was  so  full  of  the  events  of  the  day  that 
I  could  do  little  else. 


XXXIV. 

In  my  perplexity  I  resolved  to  apply  to  the  excellent  Mr. 
David  Cantyre.  I  readily  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
worthy  man,  which  very  naturally  turned  upon  what  I  had 
seen  new  and  interesting  during  the  day's  ramble.  I  men- 
tioned without  hesitation  my  meeting  with  a  "  most  singular 
personage,"  detailing  however  nothing  of  what  had  passed, 
except  that  I  spent  some  time  in  his  company.  I  concluded 
by  asking  Mr.  Cantyre  to  tell  me  the  motive,  which  caused 
such  a  person  to  sojourn  here,  apparently  without  occupation 
or  inducement. 

'•My  young  friend,"  said  the  minister,  "I  do  not  wonder 
at  your  curiosity ;  but  I  very  much  wonder  how  you  could 
have  prevailed  upon  this  strange  man  to  converse  with  you, 
especially  at  this  time,  when  he  is  not  alone." 


SAINT  LEGER.  141 

"You  refer  to  his  daughter,"  said  I. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  minister;  "you  certainly  did  not  see 
her  ? " 

"  She  came  into  the  room,"  I  replied,  "  without  being  aware 
of  my  presence  there.  But,  excuse  me,  I  am  eager  to  hear 
all  you  know  about  them." 

"It  is  a  long  story,"  said  my  host,  "but  I  will  make  it  as 
brief  as  possible.  Some  six  years  ago,  a  boat  put  into  the 
landing-place,  containing,  besides  the  crew,  a  man,  a  little 
girl,  and  an  old  female  servant.  After  remaining  here  but  a 
day,  the  boat  again  put-  to  sea.  Our  people  are  hospitable, 
and  food  and  shelter  were  at  once  offered  to  the  new  comers. 
The  man  was  somewhat  past  the  prime  of  life,  and  had  evi- 
dently experienced  that  wear  and  tear  of  spirit  which  never 
fails  to  bring  on  premature  old  age.  He  seemed  to  carry 
within  him  a  restless,  unquiet  soul,  which  had  long  sought  for 
tranquillity,  and  found  it  not.  Yet  there,  was  no  shrinking 
from  intercourse  with  his  fellow  men,  no  expressed  desire  to 
live  apart  from  them,  or  in  privacy ;  on  the  contrary,  giving 
as  a  reason  for  selecting  St.  Kilda  for  his  abode,  the  advan- 
tages of  an  exclusive  sea-atmosphere,  he  interested  himself 
in  the  various  matters  of  the  island,  and  appeared  desirous  to 
do  what  good  he  could.  At  this  time  our  present  worthy  and 
most  excellent  steward  was  not  the  incumbent  of  St.  Kilda ; 
neither  was  I  then  in  charge  of  its  spiritualities,  nor  was  there, 
indeed,  any  minister  here.  The  former  steward  had  the 
name  of  being  a  hard-fisted,  griping,  tyrannical  person.  He 
employed  a  deputy  of  the  same  nature  as  himself  to  collect 
his  rents.  Not  content  with  putting  an  additional  tax  upon 
sheep,  this  creature  insisted  upon  receiving,  as  a  special  per- 
quisite, every  seventh  fleece  and  every  seventh  lamb,  a  certain 
number  of  eggs  and  a  certain  quantity  of  oil.  Upon  persons 
of  so  small  means  as  the  poor  Hirta  people,  this  extortion  had 


142  SAINT  LEGEB, 

a  most  cruel  effect.  In  the  meantime  the  stranger  hegan  to 
feel  quite  at  home  in  his  new  abode.  He  had  been  furnished 
with  a  comfortable  dwelling,  for  which,  however,  he  paid 
most  bountifully  in  gold,  an  article  the  St.  Kildans  had  very 
little  acquaintance  with,  but  of  which  they  nevertheless  knew 
the  use.  His  little  girl  was  a  dark-eyed,  sprightly,  beautiful 
child ;  and  altogether,  a  deep  interest  was  felt  by  these  sim- 
ple-minded people  for  both  parent  and  child.  The  cause  of 
their  coming  hither  remained  a  profound  mystery,  nor  do  I 
know  if  it  has  been  solved  to  this  day.  Although  the  stranger 
evidently  carried  at  his  heart  some  heavy  weight,  which  sad- 
dened and  depressed  his  spirit,  he  manifested  no  misanthropic 
feelings,  but  availed  himself  of  every  means  to  be  useful 
to  the  inhabitants. 

"  In  a  short  time  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  superior  being; 
his  advice  was  asked  and  taken,  he  was  called  upon  in  sick- 
ness, and  his  remedies  were  almost  always  efficacious.  As 
the  stranger  never  had  betrayed  his  name  to  any  one,  and  as 
there  was  no  way  to  discover  it,  he  was  called  by  the  island- 
ers '  The  Staller ;'  literally,  '  The  Man  of  the  Rocks  ;'  a  name, 
in  a  St.  Kildan's  estimation,  conveying  a  compliment  of  the 
highest  kind.  As  he  gradually  became  more  esteemed  among 
them,  especially  for  his  skill  in  the  healing  art,  he  received 
the  superior  title  of  Wcedaller,  or  as  some  write  it,  Wcedallah 
— literally,  '  The  God  of  the  Rocks;'  and  by  that  name  he  is 
now  universally  known.  As  the  autumn  approached,  the 
same  boat  which  had  brought  this  strange  being  hither,  made 
its  appearance,  freighted  with  necessaries  for  its  owner,  re- 
ceived his  child  on  board,  and  departed.  Meanwhile,  the 
tyranny  of  the  old  steward  became  nearly  insupportable.  He 
even  objected  to  the  stranger's  remahiing  in  the  island,  and 
continued  to  levy  tax  upon  tax  upon  the  poor  St.  Kildans, 
with  increasing  rapacity.     In  their  distress  they  applied   to 


SAINT  LEGER. 


143 


the  Woedallah,  and  begged  him  to  afford  them  some  relief. 
He  undertook  to  remonstrate  with  the  deputy,  hut  the  only 
consequence  was,  an  order  for  him  to  leave  the  island. 
This  produced  a  general  feeling  of  indignation,  but  the  in- 
habitants were  so  completely  dependent  upon  the  steward, 
that  resistance  appeared  hopeless.  Not  so  thought  the 
stranger.  He  called  the  men  together,  advised  them  to  sub- 
mit to  such  tyranny  no  longer,  and  offered  himself  to  effect 
their  deliverance.  The  St.  Kildans  were,  as  you  see  them, 
a  hardy  but  simple  race,  bold  and  courageous  ;  nay,  perform- 
ing the  most  daring  feats  in  their  ordinary  avocations  ;  yet 
the  idea  of  rebellion  against  what  they  considered  the  consti- 
tuted authority,  to  which  they  and  their  fathers  before  them 
had  implicitly  submitted,  struck  their  hearts  with  fear.  Al- 
though they  regarded  the  Woedallah  as  almost  superhuman, 
and  felt  that  he  had  done  them  great  service,  yet  the  prestige 
of  ancient  dominion,  no  matter  how  unjust  and  oppressive, 
had  so  strong  an  influence  over  their  minds,  that  they  trembled 
to  break  through  it.  The  utter  helplessness  of  their  situation 
no  doubt  lent  a  strong  argument  to  this  conclusion.  The 
Woedallah  heard  their  decision  with  mortification  and  anger ; 
pronounced  them  craven,  faint-hearted  poltroons,  and  de- 
clared that  he  himself  would  resist  in  person  any  encroach- 
ment upon  his  rights. 

"  In  this  resolution  he  was  joined  by  some  ten  or  twelve 
hardy  young  men,  who  were  devoted  to  him  body  and  soul, 
and  who  now  entered  into  the  struggle  for  liberty  with  all 
the  determination  and  ardor  of  young  and  stout  hearts.  The 
next  time  the  steward's  deputy  approached  the  island,  he  was 
told  very  significantly  that  it  would  be  dangerous  for  him  to 
land ;  and  on  his  attempting  it,  he  was  repulsed  without 
ceremony,  and  he  himself  narrowly  escaped  being  drowned 
from  an  over-ducking.     The  Woedallah  took  no  active  part 


144  SAINT    LEGER. 

in  this  affair,  but  it  was  believed  that  he  directed  the  entire 
movement.  Soon  after,  his  own  boat,  which  came  regularly 
to  the  island  twice  a  year,  arrived,  bringing  many  necessaries 
now  absolutely  required  by  the  inhabitants.  These  were 
distributed  impartially  among  them  without  compensation, 
and  the  poor  St.  Kilda  men  began  to  feel  all  the  privileges  of 
freemen.  But  the  steward  was  too  influential  a  personage  to 
allow  the  affair  to  rest  in  this  way.  He  made  a  second  at- 
tempt to  land  in  person,  but  with  no  better  success.  Incensed 
by  such  open  contempt  for  his  authority,  he  applied  to  his 
cousin  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh,by  whose  influence  a  company 
of  his  majesty's  troops  were  ordered  to  land  in  Hirta,  and  en- 
force submission  among  the  refractory  tenants.  Even  then, 
had  the  whole  strength  of  the  island  united  to  resist  the  as- 
sailants, the  latter  might  have  been  defeated ;  but  the  appear- 
ance of  a  military  force  struck  these  ignorant  people  with 
awe  and  terror.  Indeed,  there  was  scarcely  anything  like 
resistance.  But  before  the  active  participators  in  '  the  rebel- 
lion,' as  it  was  termed,  could  be  discovered,  they  had  safely 
effected  their  escape  from  the  northwest  point  of  the  island, 
accompanied  by  the  Woe  d  all  ah,  in  a  small  boat  belonging  to 
him.  The  party,  consisting  of  twelve  men  in  all,  took  pos- 
session of  Soay,  a  small  island  but  a  little  distance  southwest 
of  Hirta,  belonging  also  to  the  steward,  which  was  uninhabit- 
ed, except  by  large  flocks  of  sheep  and  bevys  of  sea-fowl. 
Here  the  fugitives  built  a  strange  kind  of  residence.  We 
will  sail  across  and  take  a  look  at  it  to-morrow  if  you  like. 
It  is  some  ten  or  twenty  feet  high,  the  top  being  level  with 
the  earth,  by  which  it  is  surrounded ;  thence  it  extends  down- 
ward in  a  circular  form,  gradually  enlarging  and  enlarging, 
until  the  bottom  is  reached  ;  while  at  the  top  it  narrows  off  in 
the  form  of  a  cone,  so  that  a  single  large  stone  covers  it.  By 
removing  the  stone,  the  habitation  is  ventilated.     There  is  a 


SAINT  LEGER.  145 

large  stone  seat  built  around  the  paved  floor  on  which  some 
sixteen  can  conveniently  sit,  and  four  beds  are  built  skilfully 
into  the  wall,  each  capable  of  holding  four  persons.  To  each 
of  these  is  a  separate  entrance,  the  whole  being  most  saga- 
ciously arranged  to  prevent  discovery  and  to  resist  attack.  I 
believe  there  were  but  two  attempts  made  to  dispossess  the 
occupants  of  the  curious  home  they  had  chosen.  Each  time  the 
elements  seemed  to  rise  in  their  favor,  for  a  storm  sprung  up 
before  it  was  possible  to  effect  a  landing,  and  so  carefully  was 
the  place  guarded,  that  at  any  time  it  would  have  proved  a 
dangerous  experiment. 

"  For  more  than  a  year  the  Wcedallah  and  his  men  main- 
tained this  position,  without  any  communication  with  the  main 
island.  He  had  sent  his  small  boat  off  with  two  or  three  men,  on 
first  going  to  Soay,  and  in  due  time  another  boat  landed  there, 
freighted  with  necessaries.  The  inhabitants  of  Hirta  began 
to  miss  the  favors  which  they  formerly  received,  and  fain 
would  have  visited  the  Wcedallah  in  his  retreat,  but  this  the  lat- 
ter would  not  permit.  Meanwhile  the  steward  of  St.  Kilda  and  its 
dependencies  having  gone,  as  was  his  custom  at  certain  seasons, 
to  Edinburgh,  where  he  partook  most  freely  of  dinners,  of 
suppers,  of  whiskey  punches  and  brandy  toddy,  went  home, 
and  —  died ;  some  said  of  a  surfeit ;  others  denied  this,  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  this  way  at 
ldast  twice  every  year.  So  the  matter  never  was  settled ; 
except  indeed  that  he  did  die  and  was  admitted  to  Christian 
burial.  With  his  successor  everything  was  changed.  The 
rents  were  reduced  ;  a  minister  (my  worthy  predecessor), 
was  again  sent  to  the  island ;  for  no  minister  would  consent 
to  remain  under  the  old  steward  ;  and  the  wants  of  the  people 
kindly  regarded.  The  change  produced  by  this  new  state  of 
things  was  instantaneous.  Cheerfulness  and  prosperity  again  * 
reigned  in  St.  Kilda,  and  happiness  and  contentment  univer- 
10 


146  SAINT  LEGER. 

sally  prevailed.  The  men  who  had  taken  up  their  abode  in 
Soay  now  returned ;  but  not  the  Woedallah.  He  had  left 
that  island  as  soon  as  his  followers  had  landed  in  Hirta,  and 
had  sailed  no  one  knew  whither.  At  the  end  of  another 
year  he  came  back.  It  was  the  same  season  T  myself  came 
hither.  He  did  not  make  the  usual  landing,  but  put  in  at 
the  same  place  which  he  had  left  two  years  before,  near  the 
spot  where  you  saw  and  conversed  with  him.  He  had  land- 
ed and  taken  possession  of  his  old  dwelling  (which  remained 
unoccupied)  before  any  one  was  aware  of  it.  Mystery  mark- 
ed all  his  movements.  Report  said  that  a  beautiful  female, 
though  past  the  bloom  of  womanhood,  had  been  forcibly 
taken  ashore,  and  was  detained  a  captive  in  the  habitation  of 
the  Woedallah.  The  boat  did  not  remain,  so  that  no  informa- 
tion was  elicited  from  the  crew.  The  only  person  ever  visi- 
ble about  the  premises  was  the  same  old  woman  who  had 
before  been  with  the  Wcedallah.  Shortly  after  he  landed, 
the  old  creature  brought  me  a  letter  from  the  steward,  de- 
siring that  the  wants  of  this  strange  man  might  be  supplied, 
should  he  ever  require  any  aid,  and  requesting  that  his  pri- 
vacy might  never  (with  a  particular  emphasis  on  the  word)  be 
intruded  upon. 

"  On  his  arrival,  the  whole  island  went  to  greet  him,  and 
welcome  him  back,  for  he  was  looked  upon  with  affectionate 
regard  by  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  in  St.  Kilda  ;  but  the 
Wcedallah  declined  communication  with  any  except  his  fel- 
low sojourners  at  Soay,  whom  he  received  kindly,  and  con- 
versed with  a  few  moments  earnestly.  They  then  took  leave 
of  him,  and  never  visited  him  again.  After  this,  the  most 
singular  and  absurd  reports  began  to  be  spread  about.  The 
6toryofthe  captive  lady  gained  ground  daily;  but  the  little 
glen  and  landing-place  beyond  were  rarely  visited.  Regu- 
larly twice  a  year  the  Woedallah's  boat  made  its  appearance, 


SAINT  LEGER. 


147 


freighted  with  stores  and  necessaries  of  every  description. 
What  is  remarkable,  the  Woedallah  became  very  particular 
in  his  dress :  before,  it  always  had  a  foreign  appearance ; 
now  it  was  plain,  entirely  English,  and  was  newly  replenish- 
ed every  six  months.  With  him  personally  I  have  had  no 
intercourse ;  and  by  thus  humoring  his  wishes,  have  some- 
times been  able  indirectly  to  render  him  desirable  assistance ; 
for  there  are  things  in  St.  Kilda,  strange  to  say,  that  money 
can  not  command.  In  return,  I  have  often  received  from  the 
old  woman  a  new  and  valuable  book,  or  some  little  luxury  or 
convenience  not  to  be  obtained  here.  I  had  nearly  forgotten 
to  mention  that  there  was  a  report  about  a  year  ago  that  the 
captive  lady  had  breathed  her  last.  One  of  the  St.  Kilda  men 
affirmed,  that  passing  near  the  glen  one  day,  he  had  the  cour- 
age to  steal  near  the  dwelling  and  peep  in,  where  he  saw  the- 
old  woman  standing  by  the  neatly  disposed  corpse  of  the  depart- 
ed female.  Another  affirmed  that  when  the  next  boat  left,  it  re- 
ceived on  board  something  very  like  a  coffin.  These  rumors 
it  is  impossible  to  place  reliance  upon ;  the  whole  affair  is 
veiled  in  mystei'y ;  a  mystery  which  I  care  not  to  pry  into. 
All  that  I  know  about  it  you  have  heard." 

I  thanked  the  minister  for  his  narrative,  and  as  the  evening 
was  advanced,  I  bade  him  good-night,  and  turned  once  more 
into  my  hole  in  the  wall,  my  brain  full  of  new  fancies  and  new 
perplexities.     At  last  I  fell  asleep. 

XXXV. 

The  next  morning  found  me  up  betimes;  nor  was  Hubert 
behind  me.     He  had  planned  an  excursion  with  Christie,  in 
which  I  was  to  be  a  party  if  I  chose ;  but  my  services  were 
not  insisted  upon.     As  I  was  desirous  to  make  one  more  visit  > 
to  the  glen,  have  one  more  interview  with  my  strange  kins- 


148  SAINT  LEGER. 

man,  and  take  one  more  last  look  (was  it  to  be  the  last  ?)  at 
the  enchanting  Leila,  I  excused  myself  from  joining  my 
cousin.  I  could  scarcely  wait  for  a  seasonable  hour  in  which 
to  present  myself  at  the  stone  grotto.  "When  I  did  arrive 
there,  I  found  Leila  alone  in  the  apartment  before  described. 
She  received  me  almost  cordially ;  and  to  my  inquiries  about 
her  father,  replied  that  he  had  passed  a  restless  night,  and 
was  far  from  well;  she  then  stepped  into  the  adjoining  room, 
and  after  a  few  moments  returned,  saying  that  if  I  would 
have  patience  for  a  short  time,  her  father  would  see  me.  She 
turned  again  to  leave  the  apartment.  As  the  present  was  the 
only  opportunity  I  might  have  for  a  private  interview,  I  de- 
termined to  make  a  desperate  effortto  realize  it.  "  Patience," 
said  I,  "  is  a  virtue  I  have  not  of  late  particularly  exercised, 
and  it  is  especially  difficult  to  practise  it  alone.  Pray,  my 
fair  cousin  (excuse  my  calling  you  so  for  the  first,  the  last,  the 
only  time — here  too,  away  behind  the  world),  pray,  my  fair 
cousin,  have  you  any  very  serious  objections  to  gratifying  my 
curiosity  upon  a  subject  nearly  concerning  yourself?" 

"  What  would  you  know  V  said  Leila,  quietly,  yet  as  I 
thought,  not  indifferently;  at  the  same  time  taking  her  seat. 
"At  a  last  interview  much  certainly  may  be  allowed." 

"  Lovers  at  least  say  so,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  have  a  claim  a 
thousand  times  stronger  than  that.  A  lover  may  be  in  de- 
spair ;  but  I  am  bewildered ;  my  brain  is  turned ;  I  am 
crazed — positively  crazed.  I  came  to  St.  Kilda  through  love 
for  adventure  merely,  but  I  have  been  so  completely  baffled, 
perplexed,  confounded,  during  my  short  sojourn,  that  I  shall 
take  advantage  of  the  first  fair  wind,  and — away." 

"  I  certainly  regret  any  incipient  symptoms  of  insanity," 
said  Leila,  rather  tartly,  "  at  least  on  your  own  account,  and 
would  recommend  an  immediate  return  to  some  place  which 
can  boast  of  civilization  and  a  lunatic  asylum.  Still,  I  do  not 
call  some  three  or  four  weeks  a  very  short  sojourn  at  St.  Kilda." 


SAINT  LEGER. 


149 


"Three  or  four  weeks,"  exclaimed  I,  in  amazement; 
"  three  or  four  weeks  1  I  have  scarcely  been  in  St.  Kilda  as 
many  days." 

•'Nor  in  its  vicinity'?"  asked  Leila,  quickly. 

"  Certainly  not,"  I  replied.  "  I  jave  not  made  a  single 
landing  at  any  of  the  contiguous  isle  ids." 

"  Then  you  did  not  come "     Leila  suddenly  checked 

herself,  and  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"  No,  I  did  not,"  replied  I,  coolly. 

"Nay,"  said  Leila,  "you  know  not  what  I  was  about  to 
ask.  It  was  really  of'  no  importance,  and  did  not  at  all  con- 
cern me." 

"You  were  about  to  ask,"  continued  I,  speaking  very  slow- 
ly, "if  I  did  not  come  with  one  Vautrey,  and  I  reply,  No:  I 
did  not." 

"Hush  —  hush!  not  so  loud,"  exclaimed  the  m.."1  ->,  in 
a  low  but  excited  tone  ;  "  breathe  not  that  name  here.  Yet 
tell  me  ;  did  you  not  really  come  in  his  company  1  Do  you 
not  know  him  1     Are  you  not  his  friend  1" 

"  Leila,"  I  said,  "  I  will  answer  your  question  seriously.  I 
do  know  Count  Vautrey,  but  I  came  not  hither  with  him.  I 
have  no  fellowship  nor  communion  with  him.  I  believe  that 
he  is  a  designing,  selfish,  cold-hearted  villain ;  a  fiend  in  hu- 
man shape.  I  in  his  company  !  Nay,  I  had  rather  go  to  the 
bottomless  pit  in  company  with  the  foul  fiend.  And  now  let 
me  be  questioner.  Why  do  you  avoid  me,  as  if  I  were  some 
repulsive  object,  to  loathe  and  to  shrink  from  1  What  have 
you  to  do  with  this  Vautrey  ?  Why  do  you  start  and  become 
agitated  at  the  mention  of  his  name,  and  bid  me .'  hush,'  as  if 
it  were  guilt  to  mention  it  ?  Nay,  nay  :  interrupt  me  not,  but 
tell  me — may  I  not  ask  this  —  tell  me  why  you  are  here  in 
this  strange  spot?  —  when  do  you  leave  it,  and  where  do  you 
go  1  There  is  some  mystery  connected  with  all  this.  Will 
you  not  explain  it  V 


150  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  When  I  better  understand  your  right  to  demand  such  ex- 
planation," said  Leila,  haughtily.  "  The  private  history  of 
every  one  has  its  peculiarities,  yet  that  is  no  warrant  for  the 
curious  to  pry  into  it." 

"  None  whatever,"  re'  arned  I,  in  the  same  tone  ;  "  and  I  am 
not  at  all  surprised  at  be  rig  refused  that  confidence  as  a  kins- 
man which  you  would  doubtless  have  granted  to  me  as  the 
friend  of  Count  Vautrey." 

"  What  mean  you  V  said  Leila. 

"And,"  continued  I,  without  noticing  the  interruption,  "  I 
beg  to  state  explicitly  that  I  claim  no  right  to  ask  you  a 
single  question,  nor  to  allude  to  a  single  event  of  your  life. 
Surely  I  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  yourself 
and  Count  Vautrey.  Excuse  the  presumptuous  boldness  of 
detaining  you  for  a  moment." 

As  I  concluded,  Leila  turned  upon  me  a  look  so  desolate, 
so  full  of  sadness,  that  my  conscience  smote  me  for  what  I 
had  uttered. 

"And  you  hate  this  Vautrey,"  said  Leila,  slowly. 

"  If  ever  man  can  honestly  hate  his  fellow-man,  I  do,"  was 
my  reply. 

"  Then  I  love  you,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  passionately,  start- 
ing up  and  advancing  near  me.  "And,  oh,"  continued  she, 
bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears,  "  if  you  knew  me,  if  you  knew 
my  history  —  all  that  I  have  suffered  and  endured — what  my 
fate  has  been,  and  what  my  destiny  surely,  too  surely,  will 
be — but  why  do  I  speak  thus  to  a  stranger  ?  Yet  you  are 
my  kinsman.  Alas,  my  kinsmen  have  ever  proved  my  worst 
enemies.  When  shall  I  have  peace  1  and  whither  shall 
I  fly  ?  Even  in  this  remote  spot  I  am  persecuted  by  the  im- 
portunities of  that  wretch.  And  not  one  friend  have  I  in  the 
wide  world.  Tell  me,  what  shall  I  do  ]  In  this  moment  of 
agony,  when  a  sense  of  utter  desolation  overshadows  my 
soul — alone,  alone  —  it  is  fearful  to  live  always  alone — even 


SAINT  LEGER  151 

at  this  moment,  1  come  to  you,  to  you  whom  I  have  beheld 
but  once  before — to  you  whose  heart  is  young,  and  not  like 
mine,  burnt  up  within  my  bosom  —  to  you  I  come  ;  I  must,  I 
will  have  one  friend  ;  and  may  Heaven  help  me,  if  this  last 
hope  shall  fail." 

The  maiden  abandoned  herself  so  completely  to  her  grief 
that  it  was  impossible  either  to  soothe  or  arrest  it.  Tears 
rolled  down  her  face  ;  her  dark  hair,  breaking  loose  from  its 
fastening,  fell  dishevelled  upon  her  shoulders ;  her  hands 
were  clasped  together,  and  her  arms,  partly  upraised,  were 
extended  toward  me.  -  Never  have  I  beheld  so  beautiful  and 
so  affecting  a  spectacle.  My  astonishment  and  the  novelty  of 
my  situation  for  a  while  kept  me  speechless ;  my  cold  English 
temper  could  not  immediately  sympathize  with  the  passionate 
exhibitions  of  a  nature  warmed  and  fostered  under  the  influ: 
ence  of  a  more  genial  clime,  and  to  which  circumstances  had 
undoubtedly  given  additional  cause  for  such  violent  emotions. 
But  I  soon  found  myself  yielding  wholly  to  the  influence  of 
so  exciting  a  scene.  A  sympathizing  chord  in  my  own  heart 
was  struck,  and  it  responded.  For  all  that,  my  manner  was 
cold  ;  I  felt  that  it  was  cold  ;  and  it  seemed  almost  unfriendly 
when  contrasted  with  the  ardent  temperament  of  Leila.  I 
took  advantage  of  the  pause  in  her  pathetic  appeal  to  re- 
assure her.  "  Leila,"  said  I,  "judge  me  not  from  this  cold 
habit  that  I  wear  about  me  ;  it  belongs  to  my  race;  but  judge 
me  by  the  heart  that  beats  under  it.  And  by  its  strong 
pulsations,  by  my  faith,  and  by  my  hopes,  I  swear  to  you  that 
I  will  be  your  friend  henceforth.  For  your  own  sake  com- 
pose yourself.  Nay,  you  must  be  calm  and  tell  me  how  my 
friendship  can  best  serve  you.  Surely  you  forgot  your  father 
when  you  declared  yourself  friendless." 

"  My  father  !"  said  Leila,  mournfully,  resuming  her  seat  as 
she  spoke,  and  burying  her  face  in  her  hands :  "Alas,  I  am 


152  SAINT  LEGER. 

doubly  wretched,  doubly  sinful,  in  having  a  parent  whom  I 
can  not  love,  and  who  loves  not  me." 

I  shrunk  at  such  an  avowal  from  one  so  young  and 
so  beautiful.  The  words  of  scripture,  "  without  natural 
affection,"  rose  to  my  lips,  but  I  repressed  them.  Leila  per- 
ceived that  I  was  shocked,  and  said : 

"  Do  not  in  your  mind  accuse  me  unjustly.  When  I  speak 
thus  of  my  father,  I  am  unburthening  the  load  that  weighs 
heaviest  at  my  heart.  To  him  I  owe  everything  that  can  min- 
ister to  my  personal  comfort.  I  know  not  what  it  is  to  have 
a  want  ungratified.  To  him  honor  and  obedience  are  due  ; 
but  if  you  knew  my  history  —  and  you  shall  know  it  ere  long — 
you  would  not  judge  me  harshly  for  not  adding,  love." 

"I  will  not  judge  at  all,  till  I  do  know,"  said  I  ;  "but  your 
mother — is  she  not  living?" 

"May  Heaven  forgive  you  for  mentioning  the  name,"  ex- 
claimed Leila,  relapsing  into  her  former  emotion ;  "  mother, 
mother  —  I  know  not  if  I  had  a  mother.  Strange  surmises 
crowd  upon  me ;  dreadful  illusions  pass  before  me ;  horrible 
suspicions  force  themselves  upon  me,  at  that  word — mother! 
Never  have  I  beheld  a  mother's  face,  never  experienced  a 
mother's  love  ;  and  now  I  would  barter  for  a  mother's  smile 
all  that  I  hold  dear  in  life,  even  though  the  lips  that  smiled 
upon  me  were  guilty  and  polluted." 

I  saw  that  I  had  innocently  touched  upon  a  delicate  topic, 
and,  fearing  the  effects  of  further  excitement,  I  attempted  to 
calm  her  by  assurances  of  sympathy  and  friendship.  Expect- 
ing an  interruption  every  moment  from  the  father,  I  asked 
Leila  when  we  should  meet  again.  "  I  fear  we  shall  not  meet 
here  again,"  said  she ;  "my  father  is  strange,  very  strange ; 
it  is  owing  solely  to  his  illness  that  we  are  now  so  long  togeth- 
er. No,  not  here.  Yet,  remember,  we  shall  meet.  I  leave 
this  gloomy  island  ere  the  moon  wanes.    Then  you  shall  hear 


SAINT  LEGER.  I53 

from  me  :  only  let  me  feel  that  there  is  one  solitary  being  in 
the  wide  world  who  will  sympathize  with  me,  and  I  will  he 
grateful.     I  ask  no  more." 

An  old  female  at  this  moment  made  her  appearance  at  a 
side  door,  and  beckoned  hurriedly  to  Leila,  who  quickly 
obeyed  the  summons  without  bidding  me  adieu,  and  the  door 
closed  upon  both. 

XXXVI. 

At  the  same  instant,  another  door  opened  from  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  and  the  Wcedallah  entered  the  apartment. 

His  aspect  was  so  completely  changed  that  I  scarcely  rec- 
ognised him.  His  countenance  bore  marks  of  extreme  physi- 
cal as  well  as  mental  suffering.  He  looked  ten  years  older 
than  on  the  preceding  day.  Advancing  slowly  toward  me, 
he  took  my  hand,  and  in  a  kind  but  saddened  tone  asked  me 
how  I  was.  I  was  touched  by  his  manner,  and  in  turn  in- 
quired as  to  his  indisposition.  It  was  nothing,  he  replied,  but 
the  effect  of  heavy  heart-pains  which  occasionally  afflicted 
him,  and  which  were  past  cure.  As  he  said  this,  he  sighed 
deeply,  and  inquired  if  I  would  take  a  turn  with  him  into  the 
frpish  air.  He  put  his  arm  within  mine,  and  we  left  the 
dwelling. 

Passing  out,  we  walked  some  distance  along  the  coast,  un- 
til it  began  to  rise  to  a  precipitous  height.  Here  my  kinsman 
stopped.  The  swell  from  the  sea,  under  the  influence  of  a 
strong  west  wind,  was  tremendous.  The  waves  mounting  on 
high  dashed  furiously  against  the  cliffs,  and  then  retreating, 
as  if  to  renew  their  strength,  returned  again,  and  were  again 
thrown  back  into  their  ocean-bed.  We  stood  for  some  mo- 
ments contemplating  the  grandeur  of  the  scene.  At  length,  > 
my  companion  spoke : 


154  SAINT  LEGER. 

"My  son,  look  around  you  and  behold  this  isolated  spot. 
Who  should  have  thought  that  busy  man  would  come  hither 
to  make  it  his  own  1  Yet  here  Virtue  may  dwell  secure  and 
uncontaminated,  for  here  is  no  place  for  the  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance of  this  world  to  triumph.  But  look  away,  yonder, 
far — far  away:  nay,  you  see  it  not,  save  with  the  mind's  eye: 
behold,  crowded  together  the  habitations  of  the  children  of 
men.  See  the  buildings,  closely  joined,  as  if  all  lived  under 
a  single  roof.  Must  not  peace,  and  brotherly  love,  and  happi- 
ness, dwell  there  1  Surely  there  can  be  no  discords,  no  dis- 
sensions, no  conflicting  interests.  Is  it  possible  that  those 
strong  walls  between  each  dwelling  separate  the  bitterest 
enemies,  divide  the  good  man  from  the  assassin,  the  innocent 
from  the  vile,  the  honest  from  the  knave  ?  Men  herd  togeth- 
er for  mutual  concealment,  and  not  for  good.  Those  cities 
of  the  plain,  mark  me,  shall  be  destroyed,  and  fire  from  the 
Lord  out  of  heaven  shall  fall  upon  them,  as  it  fell  upon  Sod* 
om  and  Gomorrah.  But  let  us  turn  from  the  contemplation 
of  so  revolting  a  picture.  Let  me  speak  something  of  myself 
and  you.     Canst  tell  the  relation  we  bear  to  each  other?" 

I  replied  that  I  could  not. 

"Then  know,"  continued  my  kinsman,  "that  I  am  the  son 
of  Wilfred  Saint  Leger  — of  Wilfred  the  rash,  Wilfred  the 
unfortunate  ;  a  younger  brother,  as  you  doubtless  have  heard, 
of  Hugh  Saint  Leger,  the  lion-hearted,  your  father's  father. 
William  Henry,  I  am  calm  now,"  continued  he,  for  the  first 
time  calling  me  by  name.  "  I  fear  the  unhappy  effect  of  our 
last  interview  upon  your  mind,  and  I  would  do  what  I  may 
to  counteract  it.  As  I  said  before,  I  have  dreadful  heart- 
pains  which  unman  me.  For  what  I  say  when  suffering  un- 
der this  terrible  affliction,  I  am  not,  I  can  not  be,  accountable. 
You  carry  truth  within  your  bosom  ;  your  sentiments  I  honor ; 
I  bow  to  them  ;  would  that  I  could  make  them  mine,     But  it 


SAINT  LEGER. 


155 


is  too  late.  Do  not  speak  to  me  on  this  head  I  will  not 
hear  you." 

"But.  will  you  not,"  said  I,  deeply  interested,  "tell  me  why 
you  are  here,  and  explain  to  me  the  strange  selection  you 
have  made  for  a  home  1" 

"Home,"  said  the  other;  "home:  my  home  is  there," 
pointing  into  the  abyss  of  waters  which  foamed  beneath  us ; 
"  for  no  mortal  shall  ever  tread  upon  my  grave,  nor  shall  any 
monument  stand  up  to  say,  '  This  man  once  lived  upon  the 
earth.'  But  you  shall  be  satisfied.  Sit  we  down  upon  these 
rough  stones ;  turn  your  face  away  from  mine,  and  I  will 
briefly  sketch  my  life." 

I  did  as  directed. 

XXXVII. 

"You  doubtless  have  heard  how  Wilfred  Saint  Leger,  my 
father,  in  company  with  Julian  Moncrieff  of  Glencoe,  made 
their  way  to  Paris  with  the  fair  Isabella  Seward,  a  rich  heir- 
ess, and  a  ward  of  the  Earl  of  Venachoir;  how  Wilfred  Saint 
Leger  wedded  the  young  girl,  and  how  they  lived  happily 
together  ;  how  in  some  three  years  the  lovely  lady  grew  pale, 
saddened,  and  died,  leaving  one  child,  a  boy — myself.  I  have 
no  recollection  of  my  mother  ;  sometimes  I  fancy  I  can  recall 
her  sweet,  pale  face,  as  she  pressed  me  to  her  bosom,  and, 
weeping,  commended  her  infant  to  God.  It  was  a  sin  to  leave 
a  guardian's  roof  and  elope  as  she  did ;  but  how  sorely  was 
she  punished,  and  how  surely.  Thank  God,  she  died.  Yes, 
died,  instead  of  carrying  the  crushing  weight  of  a  broken 
heart  and  an  agonized  spirit  through  a  long  lifetime.  My 
father  was  always  a  slave  to  the  gayeties  of  Paris.  From  my 
boyhood,  on  the  contrary,  I  detested  them.  I  longed  to  get 
upon  English  ground.     I  determined  never  to  adopt  any  oth- 


156  SAINT  LEGER- 

er  country  for  my  own.  At  the  age  of  ten,  my  father,  more 
to  avoid  the  restraint  which  a  boy's  observation  would  natu- 
rally cause  upon  such  a  parent,  sent  me  to  England  to  his 
brother,  Hugh  Saint  Leger,  your  grandfather,  having  previ- 
ously got  the  consent  of  my  uncle  that  he  would  take  charge 
of  me.  I  spent  in  England  the  only  happy  days  of  my  life. 
Your  noble  father  was  about  my  own  age  :  we  rode,  we  hunt- 
ed, we  read,  and  we  studied,  together.  How  I  loved  him  then, 
and  if  my  heart  were  not  stone,  how  I  should  love  him  now  ! 
For  seven  long  (to  children  all  years  are  long)  happy  years 
was  England  my  home.  Of  these,  three  were  spent  at  Eton, 
and  one  at  Oxford.  Previously  to  that  time,  we  were  attend- 
ed by  private  masters  at  Bert  old  Castle.  Through  the  whole 
your  father  was  my  constant  playmate  and  companion  ;  and 
never  were  there  any  serious  differences  between  us.  I  con- 
sidered myself  permanently  located  in  England.  From  my 
father  I  heard  three  or  four  times  a  year ;  his  letters  gener- 
ally contained  some  half-dozen  lines,  expressing  his  approba- 
tion of  the  course  I  was  pursuing  under  my  uncle's  direction, 
with  some  commonplace  remarks  about  duty,  and  the  like. 
His  remittances  were  always  made  punctually,  and  I  soon  re- 
garded one  epistle  but  as  the  facsimile  of  another 

"I  had  been  at  Oxford  a  year.  I  was  ambitious  as  a  stu- 
dent, without  bein?  a  book-worm,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  I 
had  laid  a  foundation  which  should  lead  to  an  honorable  distinc- 
Unr.  rvnong  my  fellows.  My  habits  were  good,  and  much  did  I 
owe  to  your  father's  influence  that  they  were  so.  Still,  there 
was  that  about  me  of  which  I  trembled  thoughtfully  to  consider. 
There  was  a  latent  desire  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  to 
taste  its  follies.  The  Untried  was  constantly  before  me  with 
its  temptations,  but  I  resisted  them  all ;  yet  I  felt  how  neces- 
sary it  was  for  me  to  keep  as  far  as  possible  from  their  reach. 
Just  then  —  mark  me,  for  the  devil's  hand  was  in  it — just  then 


SAINT  LEGER. 


157 


I  received  a  letter  from  my  father,  written  in  haste,  command- 
ing me  to  come  immediately  to  Paris.  I  can  not  describe  my 
feelings  at  this  unexpected  summons.  For  a  time  I  wa9 
completely  beside  myself.  I  raved,  swore,  and  cursed  my 
destiny  ;  nay,  I  fear  I  cursed  my  parent.  At  length  I  became 
calm.  I  sat  down  and  wrote  him  a  long  letter,  stating  my 
situation,  what  I  had  accomplished,  what  I  hoped  to  accom- 
plish ;  and  begged  him  to  allow  me  to  remain  in  England.  I 
received  in  return  a  short,  decisive  note.  He  said  the  most 
urgent  reasons  had  influenced  his  decision ;  that  it  was  unal- 
terable, and  that  he  was  already  suffering  through  my  delay. 
I  left  Oxford  at  once  for  Bertold  Castle,  and  asked  my  un- 
cle's advice.  His  view  of  the  relation  of  parent  and  child 
was  severe.  He  regretted  my  father's  decision,  but  advised 
me  to  bow  to  it ;  perhaps  it  might  be  in  my  power  speedily 
to  return.  Much  more  he  said,  which  I  need  not  repeat;  and 
at  length  I  was  persuaded. 

"  I  left  for  Paris.  Arrived  there,  I  drove  to  my  father's  ho- 
tel in  the  rue  Montmartre,  and  found  it  closed.  A  sickening 
apprehension  came  over  me  as  I  leaned  against  the  ponderous 
gate  which  commanded  the  entrance  to  the  courtyard.  Not 
even  the  portier,  who  remains  a  fixture  on  the  premises,  was 
in  his  accustomed  place  to  answer  questions,  and  the  door  of 
the  concicrgerie  was  shut  and  fastened.  I  knew  not  what  to 
do.  My  mind  was  sorely  perplexed.  As  I  looked  up  at  the 
high  walls  of  the  gloomy  building,  rendered  more  gloomy 
bv  beincj  tenantless,  I  felt  that  I  was  indeed  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land. 

"  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  drive  to  some  proper  place  for 
lodgings,  and  find  my  father  as  I  best  might.  I  was  about 
giving  the  necessary  directions,  when  an  old  fellow  with  a 
patch  on  his  eye  hobbled  up  to  me,  and  prayed  that  I  would, 


158  ■  SAINT  LEGER. 

for  the  love  of  God,  read  a  dirty  paper  which  he  thrust  into 
my  hands.     I  opened  it  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  •  This  evening,  at  eight  o'clock,  Rue  Copeau,  No.  4,  unac- 
companied. W.  St.  L.' 

'"There  is  a  franc  for  you,  my  poor  fellow,'  said  I,  and 
without  stopping  longer,  I  drove  to  the  rue  Vivienne  to  find 
lodgings.  Surmises  were  useless.  I  waited  patiently  until 
after  seven,  when  I  set  out  on  foot,  to  elude  observation,  for 
the  rue  Copeau.  This  is  a  short  street  far  off  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Seine,  leading  into  the  Garden  of  Plants.  I 
passed  slowly  into  the  rue  St.  Honore,  and  followed  it 
through  its  whole  extent  into  the  rue  St.  Denis ;  down  that 
to  the  Seine,  thence  along  the  Quai  till  I  reached  the  Isle 
St.  Louis,  where  I  crossed ;  thence  along  the  Quai  again  to 
the  rue  de  Seine,  and  up  that  to  the  rue  Copeau.  Do  you 
wonder  at  this  minuteness  of  detail  ]  I  tell  you  that  every 
step  of  that  walk  is  as  fresh  to  me  now  as  on  the  day  it  was 
taken.  I  remember  the  faces  of  hundreds  who  passed  me  ;  I 
see  them  now  before  me.  There  was  a  little  old  man  with  a 
long  cue  extending  half-way  down  his  back,  whom  I  thought- 
lessly jostled  as  I  passed,  and  who  at  once  turned  and  begged 
my  pardon.  There  were  pretty  giisettes,  who  stared  at  me 
with  naive  wonder  as  I  pushed  unheedingly  on ;  there  were 
old  women  on  the  Quai ;  there  were  soldiers  about  the  gar- 
dens ;  there,  there  are  they  all  —  and  hark:  just  as  I  reached 
the  appointed  number  in  the  appointed  street,  the  chimes 
from  the  nunnery  of  the  Sisters  of  Universal  Concord,  situ- 
ated just  in  the  rear,  pealed  merrily  the  hour  of  eight." 

Here  my  relative  paused  for  several  minutes.  I  turned 
partly  round,  alarmed  at  his  silence.  Large  drops  of  sweat 
were  standing  on  his  forehead  ;  his  whole  appearance  was 
that  of  one  in  mortal  agony.     Shortly,  however,  he  resumed. 


SAINT  LEGER. 


XXXVIII. 


159 


"Ding-dong!  —  one,  two  ;  ding-dong! — three,  four;  ding- 
dong! —  five,  six;  ding-dong! — seven,  eight..  Yes,  eight 
was  the  hour.  And  there  I  stood  before  a  massive,  gloomy- 
old  building,  which  presented  a  most  forbidding  aspect. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  sign  of  its  being  inhabited.  Not 
a  solitary  light  gleamed  from  any  one  of  the  numerous  apart- 
ments. It  bore  the  appearance  of  desertion  and  decay.  The 
entrance  to  the  court-yard  was  open,  but  no  porter  was  in 
attendance  in  the  lodge  ;  though  I  could  read  by  the  uncertain 
glimmering  of  a  lamp  suspended  across  the  street  the  half- 
effaced  words  Parlez  au  concierge.  I  had  stood  but  a  moment; 
anxiously  scrutinizing  everything  within  my  observation,  when 
a  figure,  muffled  in  a  large  cloak,  approached  from  the  court, 
came  hastily  up  and  exclaimed  : 

"  '  You  are  punctual  —  come  with  me.' 

"  I  followed  my  conductor  across  the  court,  up  two  flights 
of  stairs  and  through  several  narrow  passages  and  corridors, 
first  turning  one  way,  then  another,  till  I  was  bewildered. 
The  house  was  unfurnished  so  far  as  I  could  perceive,  and 
the  air  was  close  and  noisome.  My  companion  at  last  stop- 
ped before  a  door,  which  he  opened,  and  ushered  me  into  a 
room  of  moderate  size,  but  exquisitely  furnished.  It  was 
also  brilliantly  lighted.  A  small  table  of  beautiful  workman- 
ship stood  in  the  centre,  upon  which  was  laid  a  choice  sup- 
per, flanked  by  wines  of  every  variety  and  flavor.  A  cheer- 
ful fire  of  large  logs  blazed  in  the  fireplace,  for  the  evening 
was  cool,  and  everything  gave  taken  of  good  taste  in  the  oc- 
cupant and  abundant  means  to  improve  it. 

"'Welcome,    welcome,  mv    son:'    exclaimed    mv   father, 


160  SAINT  LEGER. 

throwing  off  his  disguise  and  warmly  embracing  me ;  '  and 
may  God  bless  you  for  obeying  the  summons,  though  I  feared 
it  was  too  late.  Why,  Wilfred,  you  have  grown  up  to  be  a 
man  almost.  Yet  I  should  have  known  my  child  among  a 
thousand.' 

"  I  was  struck  with  the  affectionate  and  subdued  tone  of 
my  parent.  The  seven  years  which  had  made  so  great  an 
alteration  in  me  had  scarcely  changed  him,  as  he  was  in  the 
prime  of  manhood,  and  had  not  begun  the  melancholy  descent 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  scale  of  life.  Yet  there  was  a  se- 
riousness in  his  aspect,  a  something  terribly  calm  in  his 
countenance,  quite  unlike  my  father,  which  filled  with  me  ap- 
prehension. 

" '  Come,  come,'  continued  he,  '  you  must  be  faint  and 
weary ;  sit  down.  You  see  I  have  been  expecting  you.  We 
have  much  to  do  to-night ;  so  fortify  yourself  with  a  hearty 
supper.' 

"We  sat  down  together.  My  father  made  a  show  of  join- 
ing me,  but  only,  as  I  believe,  to  persuade  me  to  eat  free- 
ly. It  must  be  a  serious  matter  which  shall  prevent  a  youth 
of  seventeen,  after  a  day's  exercise  and  abstinence,  from  do- 
ing justice  to  an  alluring  table.  The  healthful  calls  of  hunger 
are  rarely  disregarded  by  the  young.  God  forgive  me  the 
satisfaction  I  took  that  evening  at  that  table.  As  soon  as  I 
had  finished,  my  father  bade  me  sit  near  him. 

"  •  Wilfred,'  said  he,  '  would  that  I  might  now  bid  you  to 
seek  repose;  but  time  presses,  and  the  case  is  urgent.  Can 
you  listen  to  me  V 

"  I  trembled,  I  know  not  why,  but  I  answered  unhesitating- 
ly that  I  could. 

"'It  is  well,'  he  continued;  'you  are  in  time.  Had  you 
delayed  another  day,  you  might  have  found  no  one  to  call 
father.' 


SAINT  LEGER. 


161 


"  I  begged  an  explanation.  '  Listen  then,'  was  the  reply, 
'  and  mark  my  words.  You  remember,  or  at  least  you  have 
heard  of,  Julian  Moncrieff?'  I  assented.  '  Julian  Moncrieff, 
whose  fate  has  been  linked  with  mine  for  the  last  twenty 
years.  To-morrow  morning,  when  the  sun  shall  redden  the 
towers  of  Notre-Dame,  it  will  shine  insensibly  to  one  of  us !' 

"  '  For  Heaven's  sake,  what  mean  you  V  I  exclaimed. 

"  '  Silence  !'  continued  my  parent,  '  and  do  not  interrupt  me. 
Twenty  years  ago  this  night,  Julian  Moncrieff,  with  your 
father  and  his  young  and  beautiful  bride  —  thy  mother,  thy 
injured  mother,  boy— arrived  here  in  this  accursed  city; 
came  here  to  this  very  mansion  ;  entered  here  into  this  very 
room.  See  you  that  couch  ?  On  it  she  reclined — the  love- 
ly, the  confiding,  the  virtuous.  There  she  sat,  and  smiled, 
and  loved,  and  smiled  again.  Wilfred,  my  boy,  if  I  could  con- . 
trol  everything  which  is  held  enviable  and  precious  on  this 
round  earth  and  in  heaven  above,  and  could  add  to  it  the 
price  of  my  soul's  salvation,  I  would  give  all,  all,  all,  to  re- 
call that  scene  once  more,  and  see  my  Isabella  for  one  brief 
moment,  as  I  saw  her  then,  and  hear  once,  but  once  again, 
the  sound  of  her  sweet,  dear  voice.  But  she  is  gone  —  lost 
to  me  for  ever.  Have  not  years  passed  me  since  then  ? 
No  ;  else  I  had  not  this  fresh  grief.  When  have  I  grieved 
before  ?  Do  not  people  lose  their  wives  ?  Is  it  then  so 
dreadful?     Tell  me,  Wilfred,  that  there  is  yet  hope!' 

"  I  saw  that  my  father's  brain  was  wandering,  but  I  knew 
not  what  to  reply. 

""'Wretch  that  I  am,'  he  went  on  without  waiting  for  an 
answer  ;  '  the  bitterness  of  this  moment  is  more  than  I  can 
bear.'  He  continued  more  calmly  :  '  This  now  gloomy  man- 
sion we  selected  because  there  belonged  to  it  a  large  and 
delightful  garden,  and  because  it  was  quiet  and  secluded.  A 
brief  year  we  made  this  our  home.  With  my  young  wife's 
11 


162  SAINT  LEGER. 

fortune  added  to  my  own,  we  were  rich — for  Paris,  very 
rich.  We  took  another  hotel  in  the  rue  Montmartre,  where  we 
entertained  our  visiters  and  gave  fetes  and  parties.  But  here 
were  we  most  happy,  because  we  lived  most  within  ourselves. 
I  have  not  time,  I  have  not  resolution,  to  tell  my  history. 
You  will  find  whatever  I  have  thought  necessary  to  reveal 
among  my  papers.  Search  for  nothing  which  you  find  not 
there,'  pointing  to  a  small  box ;  '  everything  else  has  been 
destroyed.  You  know  that  your  mother  sickened,  and  then 
she  —  yes,  she  —  died.  True  she  died,  Wilfred !  but  not  here. 
No,  no  ;  not — here.  She  was  happy  here  —  she  was  happy 
here  !  Well,  I  was  a  lost  being,  and  I  gave  myself  up  to  sin, 
—  utterly  gave  myself  to  it. 

"  '  This  same  Julian  Moncrieif — he,  my  companion  in  in- 
iquity, my  sworn  confederate  and  ally,  between  whom  and 
myself  there  is  an  oath  which  neither  dare  break — this  same 
Julian  Moncrieff  has  cause  for  deadly  quarrel  with  me ;  long 
has  had  cause.  Ask  no  more.  Everything  is  arranged ;  to- 
morrow morning  at  break  of  day  we  meet  in  yonder  garden, 
near  my  Isabella's  bower.  The  place  I  selected,  for  there  I 
will  yield  myself  up  a  sacrifice.  After  so  many  years  of 
criminal  neglect,  her  memory  shall  be  honored.  We  meet 
to-morrow  —  our  weapons  the  rapier — the  combat  to  cease 
only  with  the  death  of  one  of  us  —  and  I  am  that  one.' 

"  '  Never,'  exclaimed  I,  starting  up,  '  never  shall  so  barbar- 
ous a  conflict  take  place.  I  have  heard  enough  ;  I  am  a  boy 
no  longer.  If  I  have  not  the  power  to  stop  it,  I  will  apply  to 
the  authorities ;  I  will  go  to  the  police.  Father,  father,  I 
implore  you  recall  your  senses.  Speak  to  me  rationally,  and 
not  with  such  portentous  calmness.' 

"  '  Wilfred,'  said  my  parent,  '  sit  down  and  be  calm  your- 
self. You  can  not  prevent  this  meeting,  for  I  have  deter- 
mined that  it  shall  take  place.     You  are  too  young  to  un- 


SAINT    LEGER. 


163 


derstand  me.  God  grant  that  you  may  never  do  so  by  ex- 
perience. I  am  not  a  lunatic,  nor  have  I  lost  my  senses.  But 
one  thing  I  say  — and  think  not,  my  boy,  that  I  am  lost  to  pa- 
rental feeling.  No,  my  son ;  had  it  been  so,  I  should  not  have 
sent  for  you  that  I  might  once  more  behold  my  own  flesh  and 
blood — once  more  look  upon  her  child.  But  this  I  say,  that 
I  will  not  live  longer  on  the  earth ;  and  I  prefer  rather  to  fall 
by  the  hand  of  an  antagonist  than  by  my  own  ;  and  most  of  all 
would  I  choose  to  fall  by  the  hand  of  Julian  Moncrieff.' 

"  What  could  I  say ;  what  could  I  do  %  Was  I  unmanly 
or  pusillanimous  in  yielding  to  my  father  1  Ought  I  to  have 
resisted  at  all  hazards  ?  You  would  think  so,  doubtless  ;  yet 
it  seemed  as  if  the  avenging  angel  stood  before  me,  frowning, 
as  he  uttered  the  word  '  Forbear  !'     I  was  silent. 

"  '  Now,  my  son,  to  business,'  continued  my  father,  calmly,, 
at  the  same  time  opening  a  large  case  of  papers.  '  I  must 
give  you  such  information  as  will  enable  you  to  act  under- 
standingly.' 

"  He  proceeded  to  give  me  a  detail  of  all  his  estate,  with 
the  most  minute  particulars ;  directing  me  whose  advice  to 
take  in  Paris,  what  to  do  under  this  and  that  state  of  things, 
and  so  forth.  The  bulk  of  his  and  of  my  mother's  fortune, 
was  in  England  and  Scotland ;  but  a  very  considerable  sum 
had  been  invested  in  French  securities,  in  the  name  of  his 
friend  and  solicitor,  Monsieur  Coulanges.  I  was  informed 
that  every  precaution  had  been  taken,  so  that  the  cause  of  his 
decease  should  not  be  known,  and  that  the  funeral  was  ar- 
ranged to  take  place  on  the  second  day  after  the  combat. 
My  father  made  me  promise  sacredly  that  I  would  not  attempt 
to  revenge  his  death,  or  harbor  malice  against  his  foe. 

"  It  seemed  my  father's  desire  to  prolong  the  interview  till 
daybreak.     This  was  a  relief  to  me.     I  should  not  have  dared 
to  retire  to  rest.     I  might  have  been  overpowered  by  fatigue  v 
and  slumbered.     My  father  would  not  have  called  me,  and  I 


164  SAINT  LEGEB. 

should  have  waked  and  not  found  him.  I  sat  the  whole  night 
giving  a  horribly  calm  attention  to  all  that  was  said  to  me. 
At  length  gray  streaks  began  to  light  up  the  sky,  until  it  was 
apparent  day.  Presently  the  step  of  some  one  in  the  passage- 
way was  heard. 

"  '  It  is  time  :'  said  my  father,  quickly.  '  Wilfred,  my  son, 
remember  what  I  have  told  you.     And  now,  farewell.' 

"  He  took  me  in  his  arms  and  kissed  me  many  times  with 
great  fondness.  I  was  unmanned ;  I  wept  like  a  child.  My 
father  stood  calm. 

"  '  This  is  not  right,  my  son.    This  is  not  like  a  Saint  Leger.' 

"As  soon  as  I  could  speak,  I  entreated  my  father  to  allow 
me  to  accompany  him.     He  hesitated  a  moment. 

"  '  Will  you  promise  to  be  composed  V  said  he. 

"  I  bowed  my  head. 

" '  It  is  best  so,'  he  added ;  '  the  sacrifice  should  be  in 
your  presence.     Once  more,  farewell.' 

"  He  then  took  two  rapiers  from  a  side-table,  and  go- 
ing to  the  couch,  he  knelt  before  it,  and  drew  a  miniature 
from  his  bosom. 

"  '  Here,  here,'  he  murmured,  '  my  sainted  wife,  do  I  expi- 
ate my  sins  against  you.  At  last,  ah  !  at  last,  I  see  you  as  of 
yore  —  at  last  we  are  reunited.' 

"  He  rose,  beckoned  me  to  follow,  and  left  the  room.  We 
proceeded  from  one  passage-way  to  another,  down  several 
flights  of  stairs,  to  the  garden.  I  had  no  time  to  look  about 
me,  but  followed  close  after  my  father  into  a  secluded  part  of 
the  grounds,  until  we  came  to  a  beautiful  bower,  the  entrance 
of  which  was  entirely  overgrown  with  vines  and  evergreens. 
I  could  discern  the  figure  of  a  man  pacing  impatiently  up 
and  down  the  walk.  This  figure  attracted  my  whole  atten- 
tion, for  I  knew  it  was  Julian  Moncrieff.  As  we  came  up  he 
started  on  seeing  me,  made  a  slight  inclination  to  my  father, 
and  hastilv  exclaimed : 


SAINT  LEGER. 


165 


"  '  How  is  this  1     There  were  to  be  no  witnesses.' 
"  '  There  are  none,'  said  my  father ;   '  this  is  my  son ;  he 
understands  our  arrangement.     He  desires  to  be  present,  and 
I  have  consented.' 

"  '  It  shall  not  be  :'  said  the  other,  hastily. 
"  '  Nay,  but  it  shall  V  replied  my  father  ;  '  if  you  wish  ;  go 
summon  your  daughter;  it  will  delay  us  but  a  moment,  and 
then  both  will  be  represented.' 

"  '  Have  it  as  you  will,'  said  MoncriefF ;  '  we  are  losing  time.' 
"  I  had  during  this  short  conversation  an  opportunity  to 
examine  my  father's  Opponent.  I  had  seen  him  often  when 
a  boy,  and  I  knew  his  character.  He  was  tall,  well  made, 
and  in  one  way  handsome  ;  but  there  was  an  evil  expression 
about  his  countenance  which  experience  and  intercourse  with 
the  world  seemed  to  have  increased  rather  than  diminished^ 
I  looked  upon  him  and  trembled.  He  also  brought  two  ra- 
piers, one  of  which  was  laid  aside,  and  the  parties,  without 
exchanging  another  word,  advanced  toward  each  other.  You 
are  aware  that  the  Saint  Legers  were  always  accomplished 
swordsmen  and  masters  of  fence.  The  sword-play  is,  and 
ever  has  been,  a  favorite  pastime  of  the  race.  In  point  of 
skill  I  had  not  the  slightest  fear  for  my  father ;  but  his  ex- 
press determination  to  fall  in  the  encounter  struck  me  with 
horror.  As  the  two  became  engaged  in  the  combat  I  almost 
lost  sight  of  the  fearful  result  in  admiration  of  the  skill  dis- 
played by  both  combatants.  Do  you  wonder  at  this  ?"  said 
the  Woedallah,  turning  partly  toward  me ;  "  you  need  not, 
for  the  mind  of  man  is  strangely  constituted.  I  soon  discov- 
ered my  father's  superiority  over  his  antagonist,  and  hope  re- 
vived in  my  heart,  and  I  began  to  trust  that  all  would  yet  end 
well.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that,  in  case  Julian  MoncriefF  should 
fall,  his  young  daughter  would  be  left  without  parent  or  pro-, 
tector.     Well,  the  conflict  went  on.     My  father  was  calm  and 


166  SAINT  LEGER. 

unruffled  ;  Moncrieff,  on  the  contrary,  began  to  lose  temper. 
This  increased  my  father's  advantage,  but  he  evidently  avoid- 
ed availing  himself  of  it.  Once  or  twice,  when  Moncrieff 
rashly  exposed  his  points,  my  father  would  coolly  remind  him 
of  it  by  a  slight  touch,  but  nothing  more.  This  added  to  his 
impatience,  and  he  used  his  weapon  with  a  desperate  rash- 
ness. I  could  see  my  father  smile  calmly  as  he  managed  with 
most  admirable  skill  every  stroke  of  his  opponent,  entering 
in  spite  of  himself  into  the  spirit  of  the  combat.  Suddenly 
his  countenance  changed ;  it  assumed  a  deadly,  fearful,  fatal 
expression.  As  he  turned  aside  one  of  Moncrieff' s  thrusts, 
he  suddenly  struck  at  the  left  arm  of  the  latter.  The  stroke 
told,  for  the  red  blood  followed  swiftly  from  the  wound. 
Smarting  with  pain,  Moncrieff  made  a  furious  lunge  at  my 
father's  breast.  It  was  a  stroke  most  easily  parried,  and 
when  parried,  would  unavoidably  expose  the  party  to  a  fatal 
charge  in  return.  What  was  my  horror  on  seeing  my  father, 
instead  of  taking  so  open  an  advantage,  deliberately  throw 
his  arms  up  and  receive  his  enemy's  sword  through  his  body. 
He  fell  prostrate  to  the  earth,  directly  in  front  of  the  bower 
of  his  ill-fated  Isabella.  I  rushed  forward,  knelt  by  his  side, 
and  endeavored  to  stanch  the  fatal  wound.  Moncrieff  was  in 
a  frenzy. 

"  '  Oh,  God,'  he  cried,  '  what  have  I  done  !' 

"  He  approached  to  bend  over  the  prostrate  body.  I  re- 
pulsed him  rudely. 

"'Wretch!'  I  exclaimed,  'dare  not  to  come  near  him 
you  have  so  foully  murdered  ;  if  you  attempt  it,  you  will  find 
a  Saint  Leger,  who  not  only  knows  his  weapon,  but  has  the 
disposition  to  use  it.' 

"  '  Youno-  man,'  said  Moncrieff,  in  a  subdued  tone,  '  I  blame 
not  your  passionate  feelings,  but  I  pray  you  quiet  them.  In 
the  name  of  your  dying  parent  I  adjure  you  to  be  calm,  and 


SAINT  LEGER.  jg7 

allow  me  to  assist  you.  See,'  he  continued,  eagerly,  *  he  still 
lives'  (my  father  groaned) ;  'let  us  haste  to  do  something.  The 
wound  may  not  be  mortal.' 

"  I  resisted  no  longer,  and  with  the  aid  of  Moncrieff  conveyed 
my  father  to  the  apartment  we  had  left  but  a  few  moments 
previous,  and  laid  him  upon  the  couch  at  which  he  knelt  be- 
fore going  to  the  combat.  Moncrieff  proceeded  to  examine 
the  wound  with  the  skill  of  an  experienced  surgeon,  and  with 
all  a  woman's  gentleness ;  but  he  soon  shook  his  head  de- 
spairingly. My  father  had  swooned  without  uttering  a  word  ; 
still  we  knew  that  life  was  not  extinct.  After  I  had  administered 
a  stimulant  with  my  own  hands,  he  faintly  opened  his  eyes; 
and  although  he  looked  upon  no  one,  I  am  confident  he  knew 
where  he  was.  He  spoke  not,  save  in  broken  whispers  ;  and 
as  I  knelt  to  catch  their  meaning,  I  could  only  hear  faintly 
articulated:  '  My  precious  tvife — my  Isabella — receive  the 
sacrifice.' 

"  My  father  survived  not  quite  an  hour.  All  of  the  time  he 
ay  nearly  insensible,  feebly  holding  my  hand  in  his,  and  oc- 
casionally giving  it  a  slight  pressure.  Suddenly  he  started 
convulsively — his  lips  moved  ;  I  strained  every  sense  to  catch 
what  he  said.  '  My  Isabella,  come  nearer  —  lam  happy  now' 
were  the  words  that  died  away  upon  his  lips  as  the  spirit 
parted  from  the  body." 

Again  the  Wcedallah  paused.  I  dared  not  trust  myself  to 
look  toward  him,  but  waited  until  he  should  proceed. 


XXXIX. 

"  Three  months  after,  I  awoke  in  a  sick-room.  At  last  my 
brain  was  clear  and  sensible.  Of  nothing  was  I  conscious 
during  that  time  save  that  I  was  in  friendly  hands.  I  remem- 
ber that  there  was  a  stillness  and  a  silence  that  wearied  me ; 


168  SAINT  LEGER. 

relieved  occasionally  by  noiseless  steps  and  low  whispers,  but 
yet  dreadfully  oppressive.  I  was  reduced  to  the  lowest  point, 
still  I  lived.  My  mind,  under  the  strong  and  conflicting  ex- 
citements which  had  been  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  had  yielded 
to  their  force ;  fever  ensued;  then  delirium  —  then  convales- 
cence. 

"  I  recovered.  Would  not  my  first  steps  be  directed  to 
England,  eagerly,  rapidly  directed  thither,  to  escape  from  the 
country  which  had  proved  the  ruin  of  my  sire  I  One  would 
naturally  suppose  so  ;  yet  delay  succeeded  delay.  I  was  still 
in  Paris.  I  had  first  to  see  Monsieur  Coulanges.  That  cer- 
tainly was  necessary ;  then  the  friends  of  my  father  called  to 
offer  their  condolences  (for  all  supposed  he  had  died  a  natural 
death)  and  invited  me  to  visit  them  in  proper  time.  Although 
you  would  hardly  suppose  an  Englishman  could  find  much 
favor  at  such  a  time  in  France,  when  all  Europe  was  con- 
vulsed with  wars  in  which  France  and  England  were  enemies, 
still  you  must  remember  that  intrigue  was  the  great  weapon 
of  the  day  ;  that  I  was  born  in  France,  and  had  powerful 
friends  in  Scotland,  many  of  whom  kept  up  a  constant  corres- 
pondence with  the  French  court.  I  was  admitted  there  with- 
out suspicion;  and — shall  I  say  it — after  a  short  time  aban- 
doned myself  entirely  to  its  influence.  Need  I  tell  you  how, 
when  I  say  it  was  at  the  profligate  court  of  Louis  XV.,  with 
youth  and  wealth,  and  the  advantage  of  a  fair  exterior  1  So 
it  was  that  I  did  evil  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  even  as  my 
father  had  done.  Oh,  what  abyss  so  deep  that  it  can  over- 
whelm the  ministers  of  damnation  who  waited  on  that  court! 
Yet  the  fortune  of  the  young  Saint  Leger  was  envied,  and  he 
was  pronounced  the  most  happy  of  mortals.  But  what  a  hell 
reigned  in  my  bosom.  Ten  thousand  avenging  furies  were 
shrieking  hourly  in  my  ears,  still  I  went  on,  went  on  my  jour- 
ney to  the  deep  perdition  of  the  damned.     I  had  become  a 


SAINT  LEGER.  169 

wretched  voluptuary ;  and  Pleasure,  which  retired  farther 
and  farther  in  the  distance  as  I  wooed  her  most,  began  to  pall 
upon  the  senses. 

"  I  was  at  a  masked  ball  given  by  the  Duchess  of .     I 

had  no  less  than  six  appointments  there,  and  how  to  manage 
them,  tasked  my  skill  to  the  utmost.  It  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  revel  that  a  tall  female  figure  in  a  plain  mask  approached 
me,  and  with  a  commanding  air  beckoned  me  to  go  with  her. 
As  adventures  of  this  sort  were  by  no  means  uncommon,  I 
followed  the  retreating  form  of  the  lady  out  of  the  magnificent 
salon,  through  one  apartment  after  another,  till  we  arrived  at 
a  small  door,  to  which  my  guide  applied  a  key  and  we  en- 
tered. 

"  I  found  myself — not,  as  I  anticipated,  in  an  exquisite 
boudoir,  fragrant  with  flowers  and  perfumes,  to  add  to  the  • 
voluptuousness  of  the  scene  —  but,  in  a  small,  gloomy,  narrow 
room,  without  a  single  article  of  furniture,  and  with  only  one 
faint  light  glimmering  on  the  mantel.  I  gave  a  hasty  glance 
over  this  place  of  ill-omen.  I  thought  I  was  betrayed  by  the 
intrigue  of  a  rival ;  but  fear  is  not  the  foible  of  the  Saint  Le- 
gers.  I  was  armed,  and  the  struggle  for  life  would  be  despe- 
rate. While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  my  mind, 
the  lady  had  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  after  bolt- 
ing the  door,  and  stood  regarding  me  in  silence. 

"  •  This  is  not  exactly  what  you  expected,'  said  the  Un- 
known, addressing  me  in  pure  English.  'Not  quite  so  allur- 
ing as  an  interview  with  the  Comptesse ,  to  which  at  this 

hour  you  were  invited.' 

"  I  made  no  reply  to  the  announcement  of  a  secret  known, 
as  I  supposed,  only  to  the  two  interested ;  but  simply  asked, 
in  a  quiet  nonchalant  way  : 

"  'Pray,  what  is  your  wish?' 

"  '  Nay,'  said  the  mask,  in  an  angry  impatient  tone,  '  ask  me 


170  SAINT  LEGEB. 

not  what  is  my  wish,  but  what  is  my  will,  for,  by  Heaven,  it 
shall  be  obeyed.  I  have  brought  thee  hither  to  hear  my  com- 
mands, thou  renegade  Englishman — thou  shame  of  a  manly 
house.  Thou  a  Saint  Leger !  Go,  take  the  name  of  one  of 
the  strange  women  who  make  you  their  slave  ;  follow  on  your 
path  even  as  the  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or  as  a  fool  to  the 
correction  of  the  stocks  ;  go  now  to  their  bed  which  is  decked 
with  coverings  of  tapestry,  with  carved  works  and  fine  linen 
of  Egypt,  and  perfumed  with  myrrh,  aloes,  and  cinnamon, 
and  take  your  fill  of  love  until  the  morning ;  but  by  the  Su- 
preme Power  above,  if  you  do  this,  and  dare  again  to  call 
yourself  a  Saint  Leger,  I  will  plunge  this  dagger  into  your 
heart!' 

So  saying,  the  mask  half  unsheathed  a  small  poniard  which 
she  wore  at  her  belt,  and  went  on  before  I  had  time  to  speak : 

"  You  have  still  another  course  left.  Leave  this  place  of 
abominations  before  the  iniquity  of  the  Ammonites  is  yet  full. 
The  days  of  the  Jezebels  and  the  Athaliahs  and  the  Delilahs 
are  numbered.  In  the  portion  of  Jezreel  shall  dogs  eat  their 
flesh.  Return  to  England  ;  go  where  you  will ;  stay  here  if 
you  have  strength  to  do  it ;  but  I  warn  you,  forget  not  again 
that  you  are  a  Saint  Leger.  Sell  not  your  manhood  at  this 
debauched  and  infamous  court :  if  you  disobey,'  again  touch- 
ing the  dagger,  '  you  know  the  penalty.' 

"  The  rebuke  which  these  words  conveyed,  its  truth — severe 
though  it  was — rendered  me  for  a  moment  incapable  of  speak- 
ing. I  stood  discovered,  stripped  of  the  miserable  dross  and 
tinsel  of  unhallowed  pleasure,  in  all  the  ugly  and  rude  deform- 
ity of  deteced  guilt.     Yes,  I  stood 

" '  And  felt  how  awful  goodness  is ;  and  saw 
Virtue,  in  her  shape  how  lovely !  saw,  and  pined 
His  loss.' 

I  felt  piqued,  nevertheless,  at  the  threat  of  the  Unknown ; 


SAINT  LEGER.  m 

for  man  will  often  listen  to  persuasion,  when  he  will  not  be 
moved  by  force  ;  and  the  idea  of  abandoning  even  a  course  of 
sin,  through  fear  of  my  life,  struck  at  my  pride.  I  wished 
from  my  heart  that  such  an  argument  had  been  omitted. 

"  '  Have  you  nothing  to  say  V  continued  the  mask,  impa- 
tiently, as  I  was  hesitating  what  to  reply. 

" '  Nothing,'  said  I,  coldly,  '  to  one  who  under  a  disguise 
seeks  to  frighten  me  into  measures  which  a  sense  of  right 
alone  can  make  effectual  or  sincere.' 

"  '  Spoken  like  a  man,  indeed  !'  said  the  figure,  removing 
her  mask,  and  disclosing  the  clear,  penetrating  gray  eyes,  the 
lofty  brow  and  the  haughty  mien  of  the  Lady  Alice  Saint 
Leger.  '  Kinsman,'  said  she,  '  I  have  come  to  save  you  from 
shame  and  ruin.  I  did  not  suppose  threats  would  accomplish 
this ;  but  I  wished  to  show  my  determination  to  preserve  our 
name  from  further  disgrace.  Let,'  she  continued  reverently, 
;  the  dead  rest  in  peace ;  with  the  living  there  is  hope.  I 
come  not  to  reproach  or  to  direct,  but  solemnly  to  warn/ 

" '  The  warning  shall  be  heeded,'  said  I,  emphatically, 
'  and ' 

"  '  Enough,'  said  the  Lady  Alice,  with  dignity  ;  '  1  believe 
you.'  She  replaced  her  mask,  and  notwithstanding  my  en- 
treaties that  she  would  remain  a  few  moments,  unbolted  the 
door  and  disappeared.  Scarcely  sensible  whether  this  was 
not  all  a  dream,  I  proceeded  to  find  my  way  out.  The  thought 
of  returning  to  the  gay  scene  I  had  so  lately  left,  filled  me 
with  disgust.  I  discovered  a  private  entrance  into  the  court- 
yard, and  throwing  myself  into  a  carriage,  was  conveyed  to 
my  hotel.     I  went  home  a  repentant  man. 


172  SAINT  LEGER. 


XL. 


"  The  morning  after  the  first  commission  of  a  sin,  or  after 
the  first  resolution  to  reform,  is  generally  remarkable  for  se- 
vere struggles  with  one's-self ;  and  I  had  no  small  share  of 
these.  I  rose  as  from  a  fearful  dream.  I  was  not  certain  that 
what  I  remembered  of  the  previous  evening  was  not  an  il- 
lusion. By  degrees  it  all  came  back  to  me  with  distinctness. 
I  summoned  my  valet ;  he  brought  me  a  score  of  perfumed 
billets-doux,  done  up  in  exquisite  taste.  The  moment  had 
arrived  which  should  decide  my  fate  :  my  hand  was  on  the 
seal  of  one  which  I  knew  to  be  from  the  comptesse.  T  hesi- 
tated :  I  called  for  a  taper.  If  I  opened  the  billets,  I  was 
lost  —  and  1  knew  it.  One  by  one  I  took  them  up  and  delib- 
erately held  each  over  the  taper  until  it  was  consumed. 
Somehow,  although  that  of  the  comptesse  was  first  in  my 
hand  it  still  remained  there  when  all  the  rest  were  destroyed. 
'  Surely/  said  the  Tempter,  'there  can  be  no  harm  in  opening 
this  one — this  last  one,  as  I  have  resolved  not  to  answer  it. 
It  was  too  late  :  by  a  tremendous  effort  I  brought  the  doomed 
thing  across  the  flame.  It  turned  and  twisted  into  a  thousand 
contortions  as  if  determined  to  escape.  As  the  heat  caused 
the  leaves  to  open,  it  gave  a  vividness  to  the  delicately-traced 
lines,  and  I  could  distinctly  read  expressions  of  tender  re- 
proach. I  turned  away  my  head,  by  a  sort  of  nightmare  ef- 
fort, but  held  the  billet  steadily  in  the  flame,  nor  did  I  move, 
nor  scarcely  breathe,  till  the  subtle  element,  creeping  to  my 
fingers,  as  if  for  a  further  sacrifice,  told  me  it  was  all  over ;  I 
was  saved.  1  started  up  and  ordered  horses  for  Bloissy. 
This  is  a  small  and  beautiful  chateau,  about  twenty  leagues 


SAINT  LEGER. 


173 


from  Paris,  which  my  father  had  occupied,  though  he  rarely 
resorted  to  it.  Once  I  had  heen  at  the  chateau  since  his  de- 
cease, to  find  some  papers  which  were  deposited  there.  Re- 
port, I  knew,  had  said  the  place  was  procured  by  my  father 
to  be  a  retreat  for  his  young  wife,  too  far  from  Paris  for  ru- 
mors of  his  infidelity  ever  to  reach  her.  It  was  a  pitiable  de- 
vice ;  as  if  a  husband's  dereliction  can  be  long  concealed  from 
the  trusting  heart  which  has  yielded  all  to  him.  Well,  at 
night  I  arrived  at  this  retired  spot.  How  happy  I  was ;  the 
battle  had  been  fought,  and  a  glorious  victory  obtained  over 
myself.  I  determined  upon  a  course  of  self-examination.  I 
took  possession  of  the  chamber  which  had  been  my  mother's ; 
I  invoked  her  presence  to  enable  me  to  preserve  my  purpose. 
I  prayed  to  God  —  I  could  pray  then — to  give  me  strength. 
I  have  told  you  that  my  father  destroyed  all  his  private  pa- 
pers. In  searching,  however,  an  old  bureau,  in  my  mother's 
room,  I  found  at  the  end  of  a  drawer  one  of  her  letters  to  him. 
It  was  written  during  the  second  year  of  her  marriage,  and, 
I  presume,  on  the  occasion  of  their  first  separation,  when  my 
fa!  her,  representing  that  his  affairs  called  him  to  Paris,  and 
would  detain  him  there  a  considerable  time,  forgot  her  and 
left  her  alone  in  that  sad  solitude.  She  was  still  trustful  and 
unsuspicious.  Here  is  the  letter,"  continued  the  Wcedallah, 
holding  it  out  to  me.  I  took  it  from  his  hands.  It  was  writ- 
ten in  a  delicate  hand,  and  blurred  and  blotted,  apparently 
by  tears;  "  Precious  signs,"  the  Wcedallah  continued,  "of  my 
Wretched  father's  repentance."  I  begged  the  Wcedallah  to 
allow  me  to  take  the  letter  that  I  might  again  peruse  it,  and 
as  it  may  lend  an  interest  to  the  narrative,  I  give  some  exl  racls 
from  it : 

"  Wednesday  Morning. 
"Deab,  dear  Wilfred:    T  can  no1   realize  thai   you"  ire 
gone,  and  to  slaj  from  m<   so  1  >ng  .   but  oh!  mv  heart  wants 


174  SAINT   LEGEK. 

something  in  your  absence ;  nay,  it  wants  you,  my  Wilfred, 
at  this  moment  to  be  at  my  side  ;  to  clasp  your  arm  around 
me  and  kiss  me,  and  tell  me  over  and  over  again  that  you 
love  me.  Do  you  miss  your  poor  Belle,  even  now,  dear  hus- 
band, and  are  you  almost  tempted  to  turn  back  and  bring  her 
with  you  1  How  dependent  upon  you  I  have  been  since  we 
were  married ;  but  I  must  rely  upon  myself  now  ;  and  it  is 
well :  I  feel  that  it  is  for  our  good  that  we  are  parted,  and 
this  reconciles  me."     .... 

Oh,  gentle,  loving,  trustful  wife!  Oh,  base,  perfidious, 
deceitful  husband.     But  she  writes  on  : 

"  Do  you  know,  dearest  "Wilfred,  that  I  feel  more  like  stay- 
ing here,  quietly  thinking  of  you,  than  mingling  in  the  gaye- 
ties  of  Paris  1  Somehow,  I  can  not  feel  that  I  am  a  mother 
in  yon  strange  city ;  and  shall  I  confess  it,  dear,  dear  Wilfred, 
I  have  almost  thought  that  you  did  not  love  your  Isabella  so 
much  when  surrounded  by  its  attractions.  Now,  dearest,  for- 
give me,  for  you  know  that  I  do  not  believe  this ;  the  whole 
wide  world  could  not  make  me  believe  it ;  only  I  love  to 
have  you  reassure  me,  Wilfred,  and  then — how  confident  I 


tTTOw  ainun 


"  Six  o'clock. —  My  precious  love,  I  am  home-sick  to  see 
you.  The  day  has  been  lovely  thus  far,  but  now  it  rains. 
All  nature  is  so  beautiful  about  me  that  I  can  not  but  be 
cheerful ;  and  yet  metbinks  this  very  loveliness  of  scenery, 
which  so  cheers  us  in  bright  daylight,  lends  a  saddening  in- 
fluence in  sweet  melancholy  twilight ;  sweet  when  we  are  to- 
gether, dearest ;  melancholy  when  we  are  parted. 

"  My  chief  solace  is  our  dear  babe  ;  all  is  new  to  him  here, 
and  he  looks  at  everything  with  great  surprised  eyes,  won- 
dering what  it  means.  He  has  just  gone  to  his  rosy  rest. 
Heaven  make  his  slumbers  peaceful ;  for  troubled  waters 
sweep  even  over  the  bosom  of  infancy. 


SAINT  LEGER.  17 

"Eleven  o'clock. —  I  am  going  now,  my  dear  husband,  to 
my  solitary  bed.  I  have  been  talking  this  evening  with  old 
Hannah.  She  has  entertained  me  by  telling  me  of  your 
childhood,  I  culled  a  fresh  bouquet  of  roses  for  my  table 
this  morning,  but  an  instinct  of  love  led  me  to  preserve  in 
my  chamber  those  we  gathered  yesterday.  Where  is  the 
rose  I  gave  you  1  And  now  love,  my  precious  love,  with  a 
sweet,  sweet  kiss  —  good  night ! 

"  Tuesday,  3  o'clock. —  Oh,  my  Wilfred,  I  have  been  so 
agonized  !  How  have  I  been  tortured !  What  shall  I  say 
or  do  1  To-day  Count  Davrainville  called.  He  was  just 
from  Paris ;   and  do  you  think  the  wretch  had  the  audacity  to 

speak  of  you  as Oh,  no  ;  I  will  not  insult  my  Wilfred 

by  naming  it ;  but  the  count  spoke  of  it  so  as  a  matter  of 
course,  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  should  sink,  although  I  knew 
every  word  was  false.  I  assure  you  I  left  the  room  without 
waiting  for  a  repetition  of  such  despicable  slander.  Oh,  Wil- 
fred, Wilfred  !  what  a  load  is  on  my  heart !  If  I  could  only 
come  now  and  creep  into  your  bosom,  and  have  you  soothe 
me  like  a  poor  gi'ieved  child.  Ah,  were  it  not  for  my  precious 
babe,  how  quick  would  I  fly  to  you." 

XLI. 

"  This  letter,"  continued  the  Woedallah,  "this  letter,  writ- 
ten by  my  sainted  mother,  completed  my  reform.  I  knelt 
down  by  the  side  of  the  bed  where  she  expired,  and  made  a 
vow  to  live  a  virtuous  life.  I  shuddered  at  my  recent  narrow 
escape,  and  could  hardly  believe  it  was  real.  Meanwhile  my 
absence  from  Paris  caused  a  thousand  reports  to  be  set  in 
circulation.  I  abstained  as  far  as  possible  from  listening  to 
them,  and  finally  I  was  left  in  peace." 

Here  the  Woedallah  paused  again.     He  was  silent  so  long 


176  SAINT  LEGER. 

that  I  turned  toward  him,  as  before,  and  again  perceived  that 
be  was  in  extreme  agony.  As  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  go 
on,  I  said :  "  This  can  not  be  the  end  of  your  narrative  ;  ex- 
cuse me,  but  I  am  painfully  interested  to  know  all." 

"I  will  proceed,"  said  he,  hesitatingly;  "  and  yet  I  would 
pass  briefly  over  the  remainder  of  my  life.  We  can  not  well 
bear  to  look  back  upon  opportunities  of  happiness  unim- 
proved, nay  trifled  with,  thrown  away,  and  for  ever  lost ; 
especially  is  it  painful  when  wretchedness  and  despair 
come  in  their  place.  But  I  wish  my  history  to  make  you 
wiser  and  better ;  and  this  effect  might  not  be  gained  should 
I  stop  here.  I  had  sworn  to  live  virtuously,  and  I  kept  my 
vow  ;  but  let  me  tell  you,  my  son,  that  man  escapes  not  easily 
the  consequences  of  an  evil  course,  however  he  may  have 
reformed.  The  remainder  of  my  history  conveys  this  single 
moral :  ponder  it  well.  I  will  say,  in  brief,  how,  continuing 
in  my  retirement,  I  became  enamored  with  the  only  daughter 
of  an  old  French  count,  whose  chateau  was  near  my  own ; 
how  the  loveliness  and  innocence  of  the  young  Leila"  (I  start- 
ed) "de  Soisson  appeared;  for  she  was  lovely  and  innocent! 
how  I  sought  her,  wooed  and  wedded  her,  and  brought  her 
to  Paris  in  triumph ;  how,  in  consequence  of  my  previous  ir- 
regularities, I  became  unreasonably  jealous  of  my  wife,  who 
had  all  the  freedom  and  gayety  of  manner  that  distinguished 
her  nation ;  how  I  believed  that  I  had  proof  of  her  guilt ;  and 
how,  when  calling  her  to  my  presence,  I  accused  her,  I  was 
met  with  indignant  denial. 

"Ah,  now  my  '  pleasant  vices'  began  to  be  my  scourge.  1 
was  not  satisfied,  but  swore  I  would  forsake  a  world  which 
virtue  had  deserted.  I  made  ample  provision  for  my  wife, 
and  after  warning  her  that  I  should  provide  for  strict  watch 
upon  her  conduct,  took  our  young  daughter,  whom  I  already 
began    to   hate    because    she    resembled    her,    and    placing 


SAINT  LEGER.  177 

her  at  a  nunnery  to  be  educated,  sailed  for  Scotland.  With- 
out making  myself  known  to  any  one,  I  proceeded  to  the 
highlands,  and  having  arranged  to  keep  up  a  constant  com- 
munication with  the  main  land,  I  came  hither.  Here  I  re- 
solved to  do  what  good  T  might.  I  became  interested  in  this 
simple-hearted  honest  people.  My  heart  was  not  yet  turned 
quite  to  stone.  My  daughter  I  frequently  sent  for,  for  I 
could  not  bear  that  she  should  altogether  forget  her  father, 
though  he  could  not  love  his  child.  You  have  no  doubt  heard 
how  I  was  forced  to  leave  this  island,  and  to  take  up  my 
abode  in  a  neighboring  one.  I  acted  through  the  whole  con- 
scientiously for  the  good  of  this  poor  people.  When  the  new 
steward  took  control,  instead  of  returning,  myself,  I  went  to 
Paris,  in  consequence  of  what  I  had  heard  from  my  corre- 
spondent of  my  wife's  conduct.  I  went  to  Paris,  but  she  was 
not  there,  but  living,  as  my  agent  informed  me,  at  my  chateau 
at  Bloissy,  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  enjoy  still  greater  freedom. 
I  determined  to  stop  this  dishonor  at  all  hazards.  I  repaired 
to  the  chateau.  I  sent  for  her,  without  announcing  myself. 
She  came,  and  on  seeing  me,  threw  herself  into  my  arms  and 
fainted.  I  placed  her  upon  a  couch  until  she  should  recover. 
Had  I  found  her  pale  and  emaciated,  I  should  have  believed 
her  innocent,  but  although  dressed  with  simplicity,  she  look- 
ed as  healthful  and  beautiful  as  ever. 

"  She  soon  recovered  from  her  swoon.  '  Oh,  my  Wilfred  !' 
said  she,  faintly   'have  you  returned  to  me  at  last?' 

"  '  Hypocrite  !'  I  said,  sternly,  '  cease  such  abominable  de- 
ception !  I  know  all  —  nothing  is  concealed.  Your  guilt  has 
been  discovered  to  me.' 

'•  Perhaps  you  have  some  time  in  your  life,"  continued  the 
Wcedallah,   "  unfortunately  bruised    a    young    and   beautiful 
flower,  and  as  you  turned  to  view  the  ruin  you  had  effected.-, 
it  would  seem  as  if  the  tender  petals,  so  full  of  rich  and  vane- 
L2 


178  6AINT  LEGEE. 

gated  freshness,  and  life,  and  beauty,  strove  to  convey,  by  their 
very  crushed  and  shrinking  appearance,  a  reproach  for  your 
wanton  carelessness.  So  it  was  with  Leila.  Oh,  what  a  look  ! 
- — so  subdued,  so  injured,  yet  so  reproachful !  My  God  !  how 
can  I  bear  to  think  of  it!"  he  exclaimed,  starting,  stamping 
his  foot  in  frenzy,  and  then  reseating  himself.  "  Yet  she  said 
nothing ;  she  would  deny  nothing ;  she  would  acknowledge 
nothing.  So  the  fiend  was  busy  with  me,  and  I  still  believed 
her  guilt.  I  bade  her  prepare  to  accompany  me,  and  told  her 
she  should  never  return  to  France.  The  good  old  count,  her 
father,  was  dead  years  before,  and  the  countess  had  long  pre- 
ceded him.  Leila  seemed  not  at  all  distressed  at  the  thought 
of  leaving,  and  the  next  day  we  set  out  for  Bordeaux,  and 
sailed  thence  to  Scotland ;  and  then — we  came  here.  M* 
wife  had  an  apartment  appropriated  to  her  exclusive  use,  and 
a  single  female  attendant.  She  had  books,  and  everything 
necessary  to  her  outward  comfort.  But  I  never  allowed  her 
to  converse  with  me.  I  never  spoke  to  her.  Sometimes  her 
pride  would  give  way  to  her  love,  and  I  could  hear  her  ad- 
dress me  tenderly  :  '  Wilfred !  oh,  Wilfred  !  this  is  not  such 
severe  punishment,  to  be  ever  near  you,  under  the  same  roof, 
and  to  feel  that  you  are  near  me,  even  if  you  will  not  speak  to 
your  poor  Leila.'  But  she  never  alluded  to  her  crime — never 
denied  it.  My  own  heart  was  wearing  away  within  me.  I 
held  no  communication  with  the  world.  My  life,  in  that  ter- 
rible isolation,  was  one  of  the  most  exquisite  and  changeless 
pain.  One  morning  our  attendant  told  me  her  mistress  was 
ill.  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do,  but  I  bade  her  ascertain  the 
symptoms.  As  she  opened  the  door  of  Leila's  apartment,  I 
heard  my  name  called,  and  in  tones  that  evinced  extreme 
earnestness  and  agony.  It  was  her  voice.  I  hesitated.  At 
that  moment  she  saw  me,  and  shrieked.       '  Oh,  Wilfred,'  she 


SAINT  LEGER.  I79 

exclaimed,  '  if  you  do  not  come,  you  will  be  fearfully  judged, 
for  ever  and  for  ever !     Oh,  come,  come,  come  to  me !' 

"  I  rushed  into  the  room,  threw  myself  into  her  arms,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

"  '  God  be  praised  !'  she  exclaimed,  '  for  this  last  mercy. 
Dearest  husband,  before  my  Maker,  before  him  in  whose 
presence  I  shall  so  soon  appear,  I  swear  I  am  innocent  of  any 
crime  toward  you.  My  pride,  my  sinful,  foolish  pride,  is  all  I 
have  to  repent  of.  You  have  been  treacherously  deceived, 
my  husband.  Do  you  not  believe  me  ?  Do  you  not  believe 
your  Leila,  now  that  she  is  dying  V 

"  '  Oh,  yes !  oh,  yes  !'  I  sobbed,  '  I  do  believe  you.  For- 
give me,  my  injured  wife  !  I  ask  not  God's  forgiveness,  but 
yours,  yours  I  must  have.' 

"  I  can  not  dwell  upon  this  scene.  Her  days  were  number* ' 
ed  ;  yet  we  lived  a  lifetime  in  those  brief  hours.  And  then 
I  first  learned  how,  for  fiendish  purposes,  which  he  could  not 
accomplish,  my  correspondent  had  lied  to  me ;  and  how  a 
noble  pride  in  my  traduced  and  suffering  Leila  prevented  her 
from  making  an  explanation.  She  died  praying  for  blessings 
on  the  wretch  who  had  embittered  her  life  almost  to  its  latest 
moment.  She  rests  gently,  beside  my  mother,  under  the 
shade  of  her  own  favorite  evergreens,  at  Bloissy.  And  here 
am  I,  the  stricken  of  God." 


180  SAINT  LEGER. 


XLII. 


The  Woedallah  had  concluded.  I  was  not  disposed  to 
break  the  silence.  The  shades  of  evening  began  to  gather  ; 
the  waves  grew  black  in  the  twilight ;  the  roar  of  the  ocean 
resounded  with  a  more  ominous  distinctness,  until  darkness 
was  over  all  the  waters.  The  elements,  the  spot  itself,  the 
circumstances,  combined  to  produce  a  thoughtful  and  exalted 
solemnity. 

And  there  we  sat ;  the  gloomy  meditator  upon  what  had 
been,  and  the  eager  expectant  upon  what  was  to  be  —  a 
strange  companionship  !  There  we  sat ;  and  while  we  lived 
upon  the  Past  and  Future,  both  forgot  the  eternal  Present ; 
the  everlasting,  never-ending  Now,  for  which  only  man  ex- 
ists ;  for  in  it  are  embraced  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever. 
Vain  mortal,  to  feed  upon  dim  recollections,  or  upon  the 
unsubstantial  framework  of  false  hopes,  forgetful  of  that 
which  is! 

But  must  faith,  must  hope,  be  banished  ?  Ah,  no.  "  Does 
not  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  wait  for  the  mani- 
festation of  the  sons  of  God?"  Assuredly.  But  it  must  be 
such  faith,  such  hope,  such  expectation,  as  will  make  the  Now 
important.  Tell  me  of  a  faith  that  bids  me  forget  the  present, 
and  I  will  brand  it  false.  Show  me  a  hope  that  connects  not 
with  what  is,  and  I  will  mark  it  vain.  Summon  me  an  ex- 
pectation that  refers  not  to  what  I  now  am,  and  I  will  stamp 
it  futile.  And  yet  man  sits,  and  waits,  and  hopes,  and  expects, 
and  waits  again,  while  nothing  comes  of  it ;  and  he  murmurs, 
but  still  expects,  and  still  the  river  runs  by  full  flowing,  and 
the  current  will  not  diminish  :  still  the  wheel  goes  round, 
but  nothing  is  accomplished.  And  what  has  his  faith,  or  his 
hope,  or  his  expectation,  done  for  him?      Therefore,  oh  being, 


SAINT  LEGER.  181 

created  by  the  Almighty  Father,  when,  unquiet  and  dissatis- 
fied, thou  busiest  thyself  with  vain  imaginings,  know  that  thou 
neglectest  the  present,  and  if  thou  neglectest  it,  thou  art  lost. 


XLIII. 

The  Woedallah  had  concluded ;  but  it  was  evident  that  he 
had  given  a  very  brief  outline  of  his  history.  More  I  could 
not  ask.  Yet  how  I  longed  to  question  him  about  the  young 
Leila.  Here  was  a  mystery  unexplained.  Not  love  that 
beautiful  creature  !  not  love  the  only  child  of  his  unfortunate 
and  so  much  wronged  wife !  But  the  Woedallah  had  not 
said  that  he  was  regardless  of  his  child.     True,  Leila  had 

confessed  that  she  could  not  love  him.     Perhaps But  it 

was  idle  to  conjecture  ;  and  I  was  consoled  with  the  hope 
that  time  would  explain  all.  I  now  went  back  to  myself.  I 
was  adrift  again.  The  narrative  of  my  kinsman  made  me 
tremble  at  the  resolution  I  had  taken  a  little  before.  Like  a 
successful  ambuscade,  it  found  me  at  unawares,  and  put  to 
flight  my  fancied  security.  Pleasure  ! — what  was  pleasure? 
It  seemed  to  me  like  some  accursed  fiend,  whose  end  was  to 
accomplish  my  destruction.  My  heart  acknowledged  to  itself 
an  incipient  guilt,  which  waited  only  for  temptation  to  be  de- 
veloped. In  vain  I  determined  on  adherence  to  my  resolu- 
tion.    It  had  vanished  ;  I  could  not  grasp  it : 

"  Tkr  frustra  comprensa  nianus  effugit  imago, 
Par  levibus  ventis  volucrique  simillima  somno." 

Everything  was  gone  save  one  absorbing  idea,  and  that  was 
Leila.  I  say  idea,  for  I  had  as  yet  no  conception  of  the 
ideal  Ah,  beautiful  and  holy  ideal  !  thou  belongest  not  in 
thy  perfection  to  youth,  for  youth  is  attracted  too  much  by 
earth,  to  worship  thee.  The  dross  must  be  first  expelled, 
the  flnmr  of  life  musl  burn  clear  and  pure  —  fed  no  more  by 


182  SAINT  LEGER. 

the  exuberance  of  too  young  and  turbulent  blood.  How  do 
the  many,  led  away  by  mimic  Fancy, 

"which,  misjoining  shapes, 

Wild  work  produces"  — 

create  for  themselves  a  world  of  ecstatic  dreams,  nurtured  by 
unhealthy  excitements,  consuming  the  heart  by  their  false 
fire,  and  withering  up  for  ever  the  well-springs  of  life ;  leav- 
ing the  fountain  which  should  flow  with  perpetual  freshness, 
parched,  and  arid,  and  desolate. 

But  who  can  realize  the  Ideal  !  They  only  upon  whom 
Imagination  waits ;  who  live  in  the  momentous  Present ;  who 
yield  not  to  Fancy's  airy  nothings — they  shall  enjoy  it,  for  to 
such  Heaven  has  already  begun. 


XLIV. 

When  at  length  I  parted  from  the  Wcedallah,  and  proceed- 
ed toward  the  village,  my  mind  was  in  a  whirl  of  excitement. 
I  saw  in  fancy  nothing  but  Leila ;  I  thought  of  nothing  but 
Leila;  I  gave  myself  up  entirely  to  Leila.  "Why,  to  what 
end,  I  did  not  ask  —  I  did  not  care  —  I  would  not  think.  If  I 
could  only  have  one  more  interview,  that  was  all  I  would  de- 
mand ;  all  the  happiness  I  required — one  more  interview !  I 
accused  myself  of  rudeness,  of  heartlessness,  of  everything 
unkind.  I  thought  of  every  word  she  said ;  I  remembered 
every  step  ;  every  gesture.  How  I  dreaded  to  think  of  any- 
thing else :  how  I  loved  that  night :  how  I  hated  the  thought 
of  the  morrow,  with  its  dull  routine. 

My  bosom  full  of  these  emotions,  I  reached  the  habitation 
of  the  worthy  minister.  I  paused  upon  the  threshold.  I 
turned  and  looked  up  at  the  still  heavens,  so  quiet  and  aw- 
ful.    The  stars  which  lighted  the  dark-robed  night  glittered 


SAINT  LEGER. 


183 


with  unusual  brilliancy.  Perhaps  Leila  too  was  at  that  mo- 
ment gazing  at  them.  I  felt  that  she  was.  My  soul  drank 
in  a  world  of  bliss  —  of  rapture — -of  indescribable  ecstasy. 
Were  we  not  in  a  perfect  sympathy  1  Were  not  those  stars 
charged  with  destiny — revealers  of  every  fate  ?  Could  the 
transport  have  been  greater  were  we  gazing  into  each  other's 
eyes?  Glorious  stars,  truthful  stars!  and  I  repeated  from 
the  Orphic  Hymns : 

'A.aripts   ovpavioi,   Nvktos  <pi\a  TtKva   //fXatvrjs 
Ey<VK\iots  Sivrisi   ireptOpf-uoi   kv\wtc<t 
Motpt  Joio'  ffo<"K  jioipm  (TtipavTOpss   ovrsg 
'EiTTa<pat7s   $d>vas   'apopw^tvoi,   pep6ir\ayKToi 
Axya^ovrts  del  vvktoc  ^oipoeiiia  viirXov  ! 

Were  these  feelings  true  ?  Did  my  heart  beat  with  a  health- 
ful excitement  1  Was  I  experiencing  what  writers  of  romance 
delight  to  describe  as  first  love  ?     We  shall  see. 


XLV. 

The  next  day  there  was  to  be  a  hunt  for  birds  and  birds'- 
eggs.  As  the  St.  Kildans  subsist  chiefly  on  wild  fowl,  and  the 
eggs  of  the  wild  fowl,  it  follows  of  course,  that  enterprise, 
courage,  and  alertness,  in  securing  these  necessary  arti- 
cles of  subsistence,  form  their  highest  accomplishments. 
The  bold  adventurer  who  by  feats  of  extraordinary  hazard 
captures  the  solan  goose,  as  the  creature  sits  upon  a  shelving 
rock  a  thousand  feet  from  the  toppling  crags  above,  or  secures 
the  eggs  of  the  lavie,  deposited  midway  between  the  top  of 
some  fearful  precipice  and  the  foaming  sea  below,  is  regarded 
in  the  island  as  a  hero,  and  his  praises  are  chanted  by  the 
St.  Kildan  maidens  in  songs  remarkably  descriptive  and  full  of 
fancy.  The  heroic  actions  of  the  men ;  their  disregard  of 
fatigue  and  peril ;  their  success  in  these  enterprises,  and  some- 


184  SAINT  LEGER. 

times  their  untimely  fate,  form  the  main  topics  of  St.  Kildan 
song. 

All  the  rocks  in  the  island,  which  overhang  the  sea,  are  di- 
vided among  the  inhabitants  in  the  same  way  as  the  land,  and 
any  infringement  upon  the  right  of  possession  is  regarded  as 
heinous  as  theft  itself,  and  punished  accordingly.  Each  fam- 
ily owns  a  "rope,"  which  is  absolutely  necessary  as  a  means 
of  subsistence.  This  rope  is  made  out  of  cow's-hide  and  cut 
into  three  thongs,  which  are  plaited  together,  after  having  been 
thoroughly  salted.  This  three-fold  cord  is  remarkably  strong, 
and  with  proper  care  will  last  for  two  generations.  It  always 
descends  to  the  eldest  son,  and  is  considered  equal  in  value  to 
two  good  cows. 

The  St.  Kildans  seemed  desirous  to  afford  us  a  fair  exhibi- 
tion of  their  skill.  The  hunting  party  consisted  of  the  boldest 
adventurers  of  the  island ;  the  most  dangerous  crags  were 
selected,  and  the  sport  commenced.  Two  of  the  men,  hav- 
ing made  themselves  fast  to  each  other,  began  the  perilous 
descent.  First  one  would  take  the  lead,  throwing  himself 
carelessly  from  rock  to  rock,  when,  darting  away  from  his  pre- 
carious foothold,  he  would  hang  suspended  in  the  air,  his  part- 
ner supporting  him  by  bracing  against  some  sharp  angle.  It 
was  next  the  turn  of  his  companion,  who,  pursuing  a  similar 
course,  did  all  he  could  to  surpass  his  comrade,  by  exposing 
himself  to  the  most  extraordinary  perils.  After  spending  some 
time  in  this  way,  the  two  returned,  each  having  secured  a  fine 
string  of  birds  and  a  large  quantity  of  eggs.  Another  couple 
succeeded  these,  with  exploits  still  more  hazardous,  and  thus 
the  afternoon  passed  away;  some  ten  or  twelve  St.  Kildans 
engaging  in  the  hunt.  In  the  evening  it  was  resolved  to  in- 
vade the  territory  of  the  solan  goose.  These  creatures  en- 
gage so  industriously  during  the  day  in  fishing  that  they  are 
content  to  sleep  soundly  at  night.     They  select  some  large 


SAINT  LEGER.  jgg 

rock  where  hundreds  of  them  herd  together,*and  after  placing 
a  sentinel  to  keep  guard,  abandon  themselves  to  repose.  The 
fowler,  having  a  large  white  napkin  tied  across  his  breast,  to 
deceive  the  sentinel,  approaches  cautiously.  Too  late  the  un- 
suspecting bird  finds  an  enemy  in  the  camp.  The  sentinel  is 
despatched.  The  hunter  lays  him  among  his  comrades,  who, 
by  this  time  waking  up,  gather  round  the  unfortunate  creature, 
bemoaning  his  death ;  nor  do  they  think  of  flight  till  a  large 
number  of  their  company  are  killed  by  the  active  fowlers, 
who  take  this  cruel  advantage  of  their  ill-timed  lamentations. 

Much  sport  was  expected  the  pi'esent  evening,  for  it  was 
discovered  that  an  immense  number  of  these  birds  had  set- 
tled upon  a  well-known  rock  on  the  east  side  of  the  island, 
inaccessible  to  ordinary  pursuit,  but  presenting  no  insur- 
mountable difficulty  to  a  St.  Kildan.  I  had  watched  the 
whole  proceedings  during  the  day,  accompanied  by  Hubert, 
who  shared  fully  the  excitement.  As  we  were  about  start- 
ing for  the  scene  of  the  new  adventure,  the  latter  said  to  me  : 

"  Saint  Leger,  have  a  care ;  Vautrey  is  somewhere  near  us." 

"  Indeed,"  said  I ;   "  have  you  seen  him  ?" 

"  I  have  been  watching  him,"  answered  Hubert,  "  all  the 
afternoon.  His  body-guard  are  with  him ;  his  foreign  ser- 
vant and  that  peculiar  imp  of  Satan  whom  you  saw  at  the  glen. 
They  are  apparently  spectators  of  the  hunt ;  but  let  us  be 
watchful  during  the  evening." 

We  both  agreed  to  this,  and  proceeded  to  join  the  party. 
l)iil  two  couples  undertook  the  perilous  descent  to  the  spot 
where  the  birds  were  congregated.  At  one  time  hanging 
over  dizzy  heights,  at  another  resting  upon  the  edge  of  some 
slippery  rock,  so  narrow  that  there  seemed  no  place  even  for 
the  slightest  foothold,  the  daring  adventurers  proceeded  on 
their  perilous  way.  Below,  at  a  distance  of  some  thousand 
feet,  the  sea  raged  and  foamed  and  lashed  itself  into  a  resist- 


186  SAINT  LEGER. 

less  fuiy;  while  ttie  siarp  projections  seen  here  and  there, 
from  the  different  cliffs,  indicated  with  a  fearful  certainty  the 
fate  of  the  wretch  who  should  miss  his  uncertain  foothold. 

All  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  intrepid  fowlers.  Now 
the  heart  quailed  at  their  fearful  risks ;  now  admiration  for 
their  extraordinary  daring  was  paramount.  In  the  midst  of 
the  excitement,  and  when  all  were  watching  the  adventurers 
with  breathless  interest,  I  perceived  a  person  coming  cau- 
tiously toward  me,  along  the  side  of  the  cliff.  I  knew  the 
stranger  to  be  Vautrey.  He  was,  as  I  thought,  alone  ;  but 
on  looking  more  carefully  I  fancied  that  I  could  detect  some 
one  following  in  the  distance.  The  count  was  apparently  get- 
ting a  position  to  see  the  fowlers  to  the  best  advantage  ;  at 
any  rate  he  paused  at  the  place  where  one  of  them  had  de- 
scended, and  leaned  over,  as  if  watching  their  movements. 
My  own  attention  was  soon  directed  to  the  same  object ; 
and  when  I  again  glanced  toward  the  count,  I  was  surprised 
to  see  that  the  figure,  which  I  had  before  observed,  had  ap- 
proached near  him,  and  that  it  was  his  attendant,  the  wild 
savage.  There  was  something  so  treacherous  in  the  manner 
of  this  hideous  creature,  that  I  at  once  suspected  a  plan  hos- 
tile to  myself ;  but  on  closer  scrutiny  it  seemed  as  if  he  was 
attempting  to  come  up,  unobserved,  with  Vautrey.  He  cer- 
tainly did  not  seem  aware  that  I  was  near.  So  extraordinary 
did  this  appear,  that  I  turned  my  attention  entirely  toward 
the  count  and  his  attendant,  The  latter  approached  nearer 
and  nearer  to  his  master ;  he  would  pause  and  glance 
hastily  around,  or  skulk  behind  a  rough  mass  of  rock, 
and  then  resume  his  cat-paced  course.  I  rose  instinctively  to 
Avarn  Vautrey — I  knew  not  of  what;  but  I  felt  that  there  was 
danger.  At  the  same  instant  the  savage  started  up,  ran 
swiftly  toward  the  count,  and  rushing  upon  him  with  a  sud- 
den, desperate  fury,  seized  him,  and  b*T  a  tremendous  effort 


SAINT  LEGER. 


187 


hurled  him  over  the  precipice  —  clear  down  into  the  frightful 
chasm. 

It  was  so  horrible,  that  I  shrieked  in  spite  of  myself.  In  a 
moment  the  savage  was  by  my  side.  I  was  upon  my  guard, 
yet  he  attempted  no  violence  ;  but  throwing  off  a  quantity  of 
coarse  hair  from  his  head,  I  recogrnised  the  wild  highland 
follower  of  the  young  Glenfinglas*  Donacha  Maclan.  His 
eyes  gleamed  with  malignant  fire ;  his  soul  seemed  complete- 
ly abandoned  to  the  furies.  Pointing  with  exultation  toward 
the  cliff,  and  then  to  himself,  as  if  glorying  in  the  act,  he 
turned,  uttered  a  fierce  highland  cry,  and  disappeared  in 
the  darkness.  This  was  the  work  almost  of  a  moment.  The 
alarm  was  given  ;  the  whole  party  were  in  confusion. 

But  Count  Laurent  de  Vautrey  was  not  thus  to  perish. 
Strange,  nay  incredible,  as  it  may  appear,  although  he  was 
cast  by  the  sudden  attack  of  Donacha  completely  clear  of  the 
cliff,  still,  after  falling  several  feet,  he  caught  the  projecting 
point  of  a  rock,  which,  although  it  wounded  him  severely, 
served  to  arrest  his  fall.  But  he  could  not  hang  by  it ;  it  only 
gave  him  an  instant  longer  to  think  upon  his  fate.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  the  count  had  chosen  a  place  for  his  obser- 
vation where  one  of  the  fowlers  had  descended.  This  choice 
saved  his  life ;  for  only  a  few  feet  below,  the  same  fowler 
was  cautiously  ensconced  upon  a  narrow  shelf  of  rock, 
braced  up  to  meet  any  emergency  of  his  partner,  who  was 
linked  to  him,  and  was  pursuing  the  way  toward  his  eyry, 
some  hundred  feet  below.  As  the  miserable  Vautrey  caught 
upon  the  projection,  he  was  seen,  and  the  St.  Kildan's  en- 
ergies instantly  summoned  for  his  rescue.  The  next  instant 
Vautrey  fell  heavily  down,  but  not  into  the  fearful  abyss  that 
seemed  gaping  to  receive  him.  The  hunter  watched  him  as 
his  hold  loosened  on  the  crag,  and  by  an  extraordinary  effort 
caught  and  held  him  in  his  descent.     His  pari  nor  was  called 


188  SAINT  LEGER. 

to ;  the  rope  was  tied  round  the  count,  and  he  was  drawn  to 
the  top  of  the  cliff,  lacerated  and  bleeding,  but  without  any 
mortal  injury. 

He  was  conveyed  to  the  house  of  the  minister.  Hubert 
and  myself  yielded  our  bed  to  him,  and  sought  accommoda- 
tions elsewhere.  As  I  was  the  only  eyewitness  of  the  attack 
made  by  Donacha,  I  hesitated  to  state  that  I  recognised  in 
him  the  follower  of  Glenfinglas.  I  finally  concluded  to  speak 
of  it  to  Hubert  only,  and  leave  it  for  him  to  make  further 
mention  of  it,  if  he  chose  to  do  so.  My  cousin  heard  me  in 
silence  ;  walked  up  and  down  a  moment  with  a  serious  air ; 
then  stopping,  exclaimed  :  "  Saint  Leger,  mark  my  words, 
Vautrey  is  a  dead  man." 

"  What  do  you  mean  '?"  said  I. 

"  A  dead  man,"  continued  Hubert,  "  Donacha  is  as  sure 
of  him  as  if  his  dirk  was  now  through  his  heart.  I  know  the 
race ;  but  I  did  not  know  that  Donacha,  being  a  captive,  ac- 
knowledged fealty  to  Glenfinglas.  Dead  '?  yes,  if  he  escaped 
seventy  times.  Never  did  a  Maclan  lose  sight  of  his  victim, 
when  revenge  sharpened  the  pursuit.  The  blood-hound  has 
not  a  surer  scent ;  the  fox  is  not  more  subtle,  nor  the  tiger 
more  fierce",  nor  the  cat  more  stealthy,  nor  the  tortoise  more 
patient,  thana Maclan  of  the  Black  Cloud  when  pursuing  his 
enemy." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  I ;  "  Vautrey  will  be  on  the  continent 
in  less  than  three  weeks,  beyond  the  reach  of  all  the  thieving 
caterans  'twixt  this  and  Ben  Nevis." 

"  You  will  see,"  said  my  cousin ;  "  and  as  for  telling  Vaut- 
rey who  his  enemy  is,  it  will  only  alarm  him  without  in  the 
least  assisting  to  prevent  the  danger.  No,  no;  let  him  im- 
agine that  the  savage  undertook  this  as  a  revenge  for  some 
supposed  affront  while  in  his  service,  and  let  it  pass.  I  '11  not 
put  my  finger  in  a  dish  of  the   devil's  cooking,  at  any  rate. 


SAINT  LEGER. 


189 


If  Vautrey  does  not  like  the  entertainment,  he  must  cater  bet- 
ter next  time." 

I  saw  that  Hubert  had  a  full  share  of  highland  prejudice, 
■which  I  did  not  care  to  interfere  with  ;  so  I  left  the  matter 
with  him  altogether.     I  thought  much  about  it,  nevertheless. 


XL  VI. 

It  was  quite  time  for  us  to  be  away.  I  went  once  more 
to  the  glen  to  make  my  parting  salutations  to  my  kinsman. 
He  received  me  with  a  composure  I  had  not  before  witnessed 
in  him.  He  was  evidently  calmer  and  happier.  We  con- 
versed some  time,  and  I  rose  to  leave.  "  My  son,"  said  he, 
"  I  thank  you  for  this  visit.  It  may  result  in  good.  I  will 
make  your  adieu  to  Leila" — I  had  asked  for  her — "she  is  not 
well.  Perhaps  you  will  see  her  when  she  leaves  this." — I 
started  and  changed  color. — "  Speak  of  me  to  the  Lady  Alice. 
I  remember  her  token  ;  and,  my  son,  forget  not  my  farewell 
admonition:  i  At  the  parting  of  the  xoays  mistake  not;  seek 
no  pleasure  which  satisfies  not ;  be  self-denying  and  be  great. 
Adieu.''  " 

Much  affected,  I  turned  from  the  Wcedallah.  I  took  my 
last  look  at  the  stone  grotto,  at  the  delightful  little  valley,  and 
the  scene  beyond.  I  hastened  to  the  village  ;  all  was  ready 
for  our  departure,  and  we  set  sail.  Soon  the  threatening 
cliffs  of  Hirta  receded ;  after  a  quick  passage,  we  made  the 
coast,  and  sailed  up  the  loch  to  G-lencoe.  Then  came  parting 
with  my  dear  friends  there     and  then,  "Ho!  for  England," 


190  6AINT  LEGEE. 


XLVII. 

Was  the  William  Henry  Saint  Leger  who  started  in  the 
spring-time  upon  his  tour,  the  same  William  Henry  Saint 
Leger  whom  the  early  autumn  had  returned  in  safety  to  his 
home  ? 


END    OP    BOOK    FIRST. 


BOOK    II. 

^Eschtltjs,  Prom.  Vinct.,  1002. 
Time,  as  its  age  advanceth,  teaches  all  things. 

Actio!  <5'   to  CKor6caaa  Oecov   itipi  56fa  fie/triXcv. 

Empedoci.es,  Frag. 

Ah,  wretch  !  whose  soul  dark  thoughts  of  God  invade. 


BOOK    SECOND 


I. 

TWO  YEARS  ! 

Time,  that  mighty  leaven,  which  leaveneth  the  great  cur- 
rent of  events!  maturing  and  evolving  each  in  its  appointed 
order,  had  worked  restlessly  through  two  more  years,  and 
these  were  added  to  the  eternity  of  the  past. 

And  what  were  those  two  years  to  me  1  Much,  every  way, 
save  in  actual  results.     In  these,  nothing. 

The  result  is  slow,  and  sudden.  Slow,  to  the  anxious,  who 
labor  wearily,  and  with  an  almost  omnipresent  energy,  to 
bring  somewhat  to  pass.  To  them,  how  painful  are  the  steps 
toward  the  summit,  though  from  the  plain  its  towering  height 
delights  the  eye !  Sudden,  to  the  wondering  many  who  be- 
hold what  has  come  to  pass,  but  who  know  not,  nor  think, 
nor  imagine  anything  of  the  preparation-work.  To  them  how 
suddenly  does  the  patient  laborer  emerge  from  obscurity,  and 
take  his  stand  upon  the  pinnacle  of  fame ! 

This  is  also  true  of  that  which  tends  downward  to  perdi- 
tion :  for  men  look  at  the  results  of  evil,  not  at  the  causes  of 
it.  'The  result  is  nothing  without  exclusion.  To  attain  it, 
one  must  exclude  all  that  is  foreign  to  the  pursuit.  If  a  man 
serves  his  passions,  he  must  exclude  the  higher  enjoyments 
of  the  moral  and  intellectual.  Or  if  he  seeks  the  intellectual, 
lie  must  exclude  those  baser  things  which  enervate  and  en- 
slave  the  mind.  If  he  determine  upon  moral  and  religious 
culture,  he  nmsl  exclude  the  influences  of  lime  and  sense. 
13 


194  SAINT  LEGER. 

Self-denial,  which  is  another  word  for  exclusion,  is  a  neces- 
sary exercise.  No  matter  what  the  object  sought;  without 
it,  all  labor  is  empty  effort.  For  no  person  can  at  the  same 
time  walk  in  a  given  direction  and  in  a  direction  exactly  op- 
posite. Attempt  first  one  and  then  the  other,  and  no  progress 
is  made.  Self-denial  may  be  painful,  or  it  may  not  be.  It 
may  be  every  way  agreeable ;  or  it  may  produce  a  strong 
and  never-ending  struggle  with  ourselves.  The  sensualist 
denies  himself  the  exercise  of  virtue,  to  please  his  passions, 
excluding  all  the  good  influences  of  his  moral  nature.  The 
worldling  denies  himself  to  gratify  an  ambition  of  one  kind  or 
another,  excluding  whatever  interferes  with- his  aim.  The 
Christian  denies  himself,  to  satisfy  his  moral  sense,  excluding 
the  various  temptations  which  surround  and  beset  him.  Self- 
denial,  then,  is  a  philosophical  exclusion  of  everything  which 
interferes  with  a  given  rule  of  conduct,  adopted  with  refer- 
ence to  a  desired  result.  And  yet  we  often  encounter  a  cer- 
tain class  of  benevolents,  who  tell  us  that  "all  things  were 
made  for  man's  enjoyment ;"  that  "  every  creature  of  God  is 
good  ;"  that  the  happiness  within  our  reach  is  the  happiness 
to  secure,  and  that  self-denial,  if  it  implies  any  constraint,  is 
altogether  wrong  in  itself;  in  short,  is  too  absurd  (because  too 
disagreeable)  to  be  tolerated. 

These  are  dangerous  philanthropists.  They  have  no  notion 
of  the  holy  in  man.  They  are  earthly,  sensual,  devilish. 
They  can  make  no  distinction  between  the  sensual  and  the 
intellectual,  much  less  between  the  intellectual  and  the  moral. 
They  seem  not  to  understand  that  the  passions  may  lead 
where  the  intellect  refuses  to  follow,  and  that  the  intellect 
may  yield  where  the  moral  sense  condemns.  Not  daring  to 
avow  their  doctrine  in  all  its  hideous  deformity,  they  cover  it 
over  with  the  gloss  of  an  apparently  improved  humanity ;  and 
by  picturing  a  perfect  state  of  ideal  sensuousness  (I  say  sen- 
suousness,  because  self  is  the  sole  object  of  contemplation  in 


SAINT    LEGER.  I95 

it),  they  lead  numbers  away  irreclaimably  to  perdition.     They 
are  blind  leaders  of  the  blind. 

Once  more  I  utter  my  warning.  Once  more  I  say  to  those 
in  the  forming  time  (reader,  if  you  have  passed  that  period 
you  are  beyond  my  reach),  yield  not  to  the  sensual ;  worship 
not  as  a  divinity  the  intellectual;  rest  only  in  an  object  of  the 
highest  moral  purity ;  anything  less  will  end  in  death.  For 
no  man  can  find  rest  in  an  object  unless  that  object  is  larger 
than  his  own  mmd,  and  no  mind  can  rest  in  an  object  which 
is  not  illimitable.  Therefore  no  merely  earthly  object  can 
satisfy  it.  We  must  have  an  object  of  Good,  which  expands 
as  the  mind  expands  which  contemplates  it  —  and  that  object 
is  God.  He  must  furnish  the  aliment  to  sustain  our  souls. 
In  no  other  way  can  the  soul  be  elevated  and  restored  to  its 
original  purity.  Then,  if  we  may  not  prevent  the  temptations 
which  beset  us,  we  can  defy  their  power  ! 


II. 

As  I  pass  from  one  period  of  my  life  to  another,  I  pause, 
hesitating  to  go  on, — like  one  who,  after  years  of  absence  and 
of  incident,  comes  back  to  scenes  of  a  former  day,  and  while 
he  recalls,  with  all  the  vividness  of  reawakened  memory,  the 
thousand  circumstances  which  gave  interest  then  to  the  lo- 
calities he  revisits,  is  for  a  time  spell-bound.  He  sees 
everything  precisely  as  he  saw  it  years  before — the  land- 
scape, the  mansion,  a  particular  apartment,  the  books,  the 
furniture,  and  the  little  articles  of  use  or  fancy  which  lie  scat- 
tered around.  Other  things  have  been  changing  ;  these  have 
remained  the  same ;  and  they  speak  to  him  as  if  they  knew 
not  that  he  had  changed.  They  speak  the  language  of  past 
days;  they  know  no  other,  and  therefore  the  wanderer  lin- 
gers, ere  he  resumes  his  pilgrimage. 


196  SAINT  LEGER. 


III. 


I  had  returned  from  Glencoe  an  altered  being.  1  felt  that 
an  epocha  had  taken  place  in  my  existence.  Before,  I  sought 
eagerly  after  some  explanation  of  the  outward  form  and  man- 
ner of  this  world.  I  expected  to  get  at  the  centre  from  the 
surface.  The  consequence  was,  that  whatever  I  learned  suf- 
ficed only  for  the  occasion  ;  it  furnished  me  with  nothing  in- 
ductive. I  was  still  under  a  cloud,  and  saw  everything  "  as 
through  a  glass,  darkly."  As  the  tendencies  of  manhood  be- 
gan more  strongly  to  be  developed,  those  tendencies  which  re- 
ceived a  tremendous  impetus  from  the  strange  adventures  of 
the  previous  summer,  I  felt  that  there  must  be  some  way  to 
break  the  charm  of  mystery  that  enveloped  all  around  me. 
So  far,  nothing  had  indelibly  impressed  me.  Perhaps  I  may 
except  the  meeting  with  the  Wcedallah  and  my  acquaintance 
with  Leila,  which  beyond  question  were  the  most  remarkable 
incidents  that  had  come  to  affect  me. 

From  Leila  I  had  heard  nothing  since  leaving  St.  Kilda, 
though  months  had  elapsed  ;  so  that  even  the  singular  occur- 
rences at  that  remote  island  began  by  degrees  to  lose  their 
hold  upon  me.  Perhaps  I  was  a  little  piqued  at  the  silence 
of  my  fair  relative,  after  her  promise  that  she  would  acquaint 
me  with  her  movements  ;  besides,  I  was  in  no  state  to  cherish 
recollections  of  any  kind.  I  desired  to  get  upon  some  sys- 
tem of  living  which  would  give  me  peace  of  mind.  At  the 
same  time  I  felt  dissatisfied  with  everything  I  had  ever  tried. 
I  longed  for  something  new.  Restraint  of  every  kind  had 
become  irksome,  oppressive,  unendurable.  I  resolved  to 
throw  off  the  fetters  of  former  influences,  and  learn  afresh. 
This  was  a  hardy  resolution  for  a  youth,  but  it  was  taken. 


SAINT  LEUER. 


197 


It  is  fearful  indeed  thus  to  unsettle  everything  which  pre- 
vious education  has  tended  to  make  firm.  But  it  is  still  more 
fearful  to  find,  too  late  in  life,  that  one  is  adrift.  When  I 
came  home,  I  began  to  commune  with  myself.  The  return 
to  familiar  scenes  had  nothing  of  its  usual  enlivening  effect 
upon  my  spirits.  After  a  while  I  went  to  the  old  library.  It 
was  dustier  and  more  gloomy  and  more  neglected  than  ever; 
but  I  loved  it.  1  resolved  there,  in  that  ancient  and  deserted 
chamber,  to  put  my  resolution  in  practice.  I  declared  to  my- 
self that  I  would  think  with  freedom ;  that  what  seemed  to 
me  to  be  inconsistent  I  would  call  inconsistent,  and  that  what- 
ever did  not  commend  itself  to  my  reason  I  would  reject. 
Full  of  these  notions  of  new-fledged  independence,  I  began 
to  study. 

It  happened  about  this  time  that  my  father  employed  as  a ' 
tutor  for  me  a  man  highly  recommended  to  him  by  a  particu- 
lar friend,  as  thoroughly  learned  and  accomplished ;  and  in 
consequence,  Frederick  De  Lisle  was  domesticated  at  Ber- 
told  Castle.  He  was  an  Englishman  by  birth,  a  Frenchman 
by  descent,  and  a  German  by  education.  How  my  father 
was  induced  to  break  over  his  prejudices  and  receive  into  his 
house  any  one  with  Gallic  blood  in  his  veins,  I  can  not  tell,  ex- 
cept that  he  was  carried  away  by  the  persuasions  and  recom- 
mendations of  his  friend,  upon  whose  opinion  he  placed  great 
reliance.  De  Lisle  was  about  five-and-thirty ;  old  enough  to 
have  formed  settled  opinions,  and  maintain  them  with  power- 
ful arguments ;  young  enough  to  commend  himself  to  my 
companionship  by  a  tolerably  youthful  air  and  demeanor. 

I  have  said  that  he  was  of  French  descent,  but  he  had 
nothing  of  the  easy  volatility  of  the  Frenchman  in  his  man- 
ner or  in  his  character.  His  parents  were  Huguenots,  who 
escaped  into  England  to  save  their  lives  and  enjoy  religious 
freedom.      England,    to   be   sure,    could    not   at   that    time 


198  SAINT  LEGER. 

boast  of  universal  tolerance,  but  the  elder  De  Lisle  had 
friends  in  the  country,  and  to  England  he  came.  His  son 
was  born  some  time  after  the  settlement  of  the  parents  in 
their  adopted  land.  His  early  training  had  been  carefully 
looked  after,  and  by  the  assistance  of  the  friend  who  had 
recommended  the  young  man  to  us,  he  was  sent  to  Germany 
to  be  educated.  Naturally  contemplative  and  thoughtful, 
without  possessing  a  deep-reasoning,  cause-discovering  mind, 
the  young  De  Lisle  found,  in  the  mazy  philosophy  of  a  cer- 
tain class  of  German  writers,  a  ready-made  system,  just  fitted 
to  his  powers  of  contemplation,  and  apparently  explanatory 
of  the  theory  of  life  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  con- 
sider as  entirely  beyond  his  grasp.  He  yielded,  therefore,  a 
blind  assent  to  the  new  philosophy,  and  became,  really  with- 
out being  aware  of  it,  a  very  religious  Pantheist. 

I  must  not  do  him  injustice.  He  had  far  more  than  or- 
dinary powers  of  mind.  He  was  a  finished  scholar,  a  pro- 
ficient in  the  ancient  and  modern  languages,  and  possessed  of  a 
fine  critical  taste.  He  had  nothing  of  that  malignant  sarcasm 
which  the  doubter  is  apt  to  use  with  so  unsparing  a  hand,  with 
those  who  do  not  give  a  ready  assent  to  his  doctrines.  De 
Lisle,  on  the  contrary,  was  satisfied  with  having  found  a  the- 
ory in  which  he  could  himself  rest,  and  which  he  was  happy 
to  commend  to  others,  without  assailing  their  own.  In  con- 
clusion, I  must  add,  that  he  was  naturally  amiable,  and  his 
habits  of  life  unexceptionable  in  every  respect. 

Such  was  the  person  (nearly  twenty  years  my  senior),  who 
at  this  stage  of  my  mental  and  moral  progress  was  intro- 
duced as  my  preceptor  and  guide. 

Was  I  iut  in  danger  ] 


6AINT  LEGER.  199 


IV. 


I  continued  some  time  pursuing  different  studies  under  the 
direction  of  De  Lisle,  without  making  him  acquainted  with 
the  state  of  my  mind,  although  I  was  won  by  his  pleasing,  I 
may  almost  say  fascinating  deportment.  Perceiving  how 
much  time  I  spent  by  myself,  he  at  last  asked  me,  in  a  deli- 
cate manner,  what  it  was  that  so  constantly  occupied  my 
leisure  ?  I  was  not  disposed  at  first  to  be  communicative, 
but  I  finally  concluded  to  give  him  a  full  account  of  myself. 
I  proceeded  with  considerable  trepidation  to  recount  all  that 
I  had  experienced,  showing  evidently  by  my  manner  that  I 
considered  the  history  of  my  mental  trials  very  extraordinary. 
When  I  had  finished,  De  Lisle,  much  to  my  surprise, 
smiled  complacently  upon  me,  and  said,  with  an  air  half  of 
commiseration,  half  of  superiority  : 

"  My  young  friend,  you  are  but  going  through  with  the  ex- 
perience of  every  one  who  escapes  from  the  thraldrom  of 
superstition  and  bigotry  into  the  clear  atmosphere  of  intellec- 
tual freedom.  You  tell  me  of  fears.  Man  in  his  proper  ele- 
ment can  have  no  fears.  Why  should  he  have  them  ?  What 
has  he  to  fear?  Whom  has  he  to  fear?  Is  he  not  a  part 
and  portion  of  the  Almighty  Essence  ?  Can  you  resolve  his 
spirit  into  aught  else  ?  Can  Self  war  with  Self?  Nay,  re- 
solve man  into  what  you  will,  why  should  he  play  the  trem- 
bler? Saint  Leger,"  continued  De  Lisle,  kindly,  "I  appre- 
ciate your  distress  ;  I  feel  with  you.  Trust  therefore  to  my 
experience.  The  ground  over  which  you  are  passing  /  have 
passed.  I  too  have  been  in  darkness;  have  had  my  appre-* 
hensions   and  my  fears ;  my  forebodings,  my  trials  and   my 


200  SAINT  LEGER, 

doubts.  I  have  escaped  from  them  all,  into  glorious  liberty, 
and  in  the  path  which  led  to  my  emancipation  I  would  con- 
duct you." 

I  was  completely  astounded  by  these  remarks.  I  supposed 
that  all  my  experience  was  peculiar  to  myself;  and  I  felt  no 
small  degree  of  mortification  to  learn  that  I  had  been  travelling 
a  beaten  track,  and  that  an  ordinary  acquaintance  could 
readily  describe  the  journey.  I  believe  I  may  say  with  truth 
that  I  had  a  stronger  intellect  than  De  Lisle.  But  so  com- 
pletely was  I  surprised  at  this  unlooked-for  denouement,  and 
so  entirely  did  my  friend  seem  to  understand  my  position, 
that  almost  without  knowing  it,  I  yielded  to  his  guidance. 
This  certainly  was  not  extraordinary.  It  probably  would 
have  occurred  in  ninety-nine  cases  of  a  hundred.  At  all 
events,  it  occurred  in  mine. 

In  this  way  did  De  Lisle  come  to  exercise  a  great  influence 
over  my  mind.  Still,  I  made  very  slow  progress  in  my  new 
course.  Although  I  had  thrown  all  former  opinions  to  the 
winds,  they  would  steal  back  upon  me  unperceived,  knock 
softly  at  the  door,  and  Conscience  (for  the  first  time  an  un- 
faithful janitor)  would  let  them  in  without  my  consent;  true, 
they  were  instantly  turned  out  of  doors  again  ;  but  they,  nev- 
ertheless, gave  me  much  trouble. 

I  was  not  without  my  misgivings.  After  all,  I  disliked  to 
be  convinced  that  my  life  had  been  one  grand  error,  and  that 
I  had  just  discovered  it.  Was  I  then  so  enslaved  ?  Was  not 
my  reason  free  ?  Had  my  education  been  so  entirely  per- 
verted and  misdirected?  These  were  questions  that  I  asked 
myself  daily,  and  daily  I  tried  to  answer  them. 

At  this  time  1  came  across,  in  the  old  library,  the  Tractatus 
Thcologico  Politicus  of  Benedict  Spinoza.  I  perused  this 
work  with  avidity.  De  Lisle,  who  seemed  to  understand  my 
disposition,  took  care  not  tn  alarm  my  pride  by  too  much  die- 


SAINT  LEGER.  201 

tation.  He  would  assist  me  in  a  difficult  passage,  or  throw 
in  a  remark  to  corroborate  my  author,  and  afterward  leave 
me  to  myself.  Although  the  doctrine  of  Spinoza  appeared  to 
be  a  sort  of  revival  of  the  doctrines  of  some  of  the  ancient 
Grecian  philosophers,  who  held  that  "  all  things  lie  in  the 
great  body  of  God  :" 

YlavTa   yap  cv   ficyaXcii   ra  Sc   aoiytari  Ktirat  ; 

still,  much  as  had  been  written  on  the  subject  of  the  Grecian 
theology,  it  had  never  in  my  own  mind  jarred  with  my  es- 
tablished notions  of  the  Deity,  or  run  counter  to  what  I  be- 
lieved to  be  the  truths  of  revelation.  But  this  work  of  Spinoza 
struck  at  the  root  of  all  my  former  belief;  entirely  destroyed 
every  previous  hope  ;  swept  everything  away,  and  left  waste 
every  place  in  its  progress.  De  Lisle  saw  my  despondency, ' 
but  bade  me  take  courage.  He  remarked  that  Spinoza  was 
not  free  from  error,  but  that  whatever  man  thought  he  might 
utter ;  and  if  the  Tractatus  Theologico  partook  too  much  of 
universality  (he  did  not  say  Pantheism),  still  it  was  a  book  to 
be  well  considered. 

Just  before  this,  Emanuel  Kant  published  his  Critique 
of  Pure  Reason,  and  De  Lisle  procured  it  for  my  perusal. 
I  found  the  task  difficult,  from  the  vast  number  of  new  terms 
employed,  amounting  almost  to  a  new  nomenclature  ;  but  I 
did  master  it,  and  found  some  relief  from  Spinoza.  Delight- 
ed at  this,  I  sought  for  and  read  several  other  works  of  Kant. 
So  far  as  he  relieved  my  mind  from  the  fearful  system  of 
Spinoza,  I  reverenced  and  loved  him.  Out  of  real  gratitude 
I  became  his  pupil.  From  one  step  I  passed  to  another,  un- 
til I  was  fully  imbued  with  the  philosophical  tendencies  of  the 
new  German  school. 


202  SAINT  LEGER. 


V. 


My  thoughts  became  daily  more  distracted.  J  had  pur- 
chased intellectual  freedom,  and  lost  my  peace  of  mind.  I 
looked  back  to  my  former  state,  and  felt  how  happy  had  been 
my  ignorance.  I  thought  of  the  God  of  my  childhood,  and  a 
pang  went  low  down  into  my  heart.  I  seemed  to  have  lost 
my  humanity,  and  over  the  warm  life-glowing  structure  of  ? 
hopeful  heart  had  been  raised  a  splendid  and  magnificent  but 
cold  and  gloomy  mausoleum.  True,  I  was  no  longer  a  sec- 
ondary object ;  I  was  a  part  of  the  sublime  whole  ;  a  portion 
of  very  God;  ever-changing,  always  being.  But  that  which 
flattered  my  pride,  destroyed  my  happiness;  and  I  exclaimed 
in  anguish  to  myself,  "  Who  will  give  me  back  my  soul  ?" 
But  of  all  pangs,  the  most  deeply  mournful  were  those  that 
gathered  throbbing,  throbbing,  close  in  under  my  heart,  when- 
ever I  saw  my  mother.  I  could  not  encounter  her  soft,  kind, 
inquiring  eyes,  raised  to  mine,  anxiously  but  silently  asking 
what  it  was  that  disturbed  her  child.  There  was  that  in 
her  gaze  which  I  dared  not  meet.  It  was  so  pure,  so  peaceful, 
90  heavenly  —  yet  so  troubled. 

And  could  my  new  philosophy  be  truth-inspired  and  yet 
not  support  me  under  these  fresh  trials'?  In  my  distress  I 
applied  to  De  Lisle,  but  received  no  aid.  It  was  not  in  his 
power  to  sympathize  with  me,  for  my  feelings  were  beyond 
his  reach.  He  could  only  beg  me  to  have  patience,  and  as- 
sure me  that  this  was  a  last  struggle  between  my  former  su- 
perset ions  and  my  new  dawning  freedom  ;  that  it  would  soon 
be  over,  and  all  would  be  well.  In  short,  De  Lisle  had  raised 
a  spirit  which  he  could  not  lay ;  if  he  himself  suspected  this, 


SAINT  LEGER.  203 

lie  was  careful  not  to  alarm  me  by  his  suspicions,  but  main- 
tained his  usual  calm  and  complacent  manner. 

I  was  truly  in  a  pitiable  state,  but  I  did  not  relax  my  efforts 
to  become  free.  T  studied,  aud  read,  and  thought,  more  as- 
siduously than  ever.     My  soul  was  consuming  within  me. 

VI. 

One  morning,  after  the  arrival  of  the  post,  a  letter  with  my 
a  Idress  was  placed  in  my  hands.  The  superscription  was  in 
a  small,  delicate  hand,  but  every  character  was  traced  with 
singular  distinctness.     I  opened  it,  and  read  as  follows : 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  you  ;  I  never  shall  forget  you  ;  never 
— never !  At  present,  I  write  few  words.  My  father  has 
conversed  with  me  as  a  parent  with  a  child.  He  has  given 
me  his  confidence,  and  I  love  him.  I  owe  this  to  your  visit. 
I  love  my  father,  but  do  not  release  you  from  your  promised 
friendship.  Let  it  be  abiding ;  GJ-od  only  knows  how  soon  I 
may  require  it.  We  shall  meet  by-and-by,  but  not  yet :  for 
I  know  not  now  where  my  destiny  will  lead  me.  Wherever 
I  am,  rr.y  consolation  shall  be,  that  in  the  hour  of  need  I  have 
one  real  heart-friend.  Your  promise  is  pledged — do  not  for- 
get it.  "Leila  Saint  Leger." 

"  This  is  from  a  Saint  Leger  to  a  Saint  Leger — you  can- 
not misconstrue  it.  "  L.  St.  L." 

How  opportune  was  this  short  epistle !  I  read  it  over  and 
over.  I  examined  it  word  by  word,  syllable  by  syllable,  letter 
by  letter.  The  postscript,  although  written  for  explanation, 
pleased  me  less  than  the  rest.  I  felt  a  thrill  of  joy,  as  the 
recollection  of  our  last  interview  came  back  to  me. 

And  this  simple  bit  of  paper,  with  these  small  character^ 
traced  upon  it,  had    ;he   effect  to  relieve  my  spirit,  which  was 


204  SAINT  LEGEK. 

on  the  verge  of  madness.  Here  was  humanity  interposed  be- 
tween me  and  the  fiend.  A  young,  beautiful,  and  almost  un- 
protected girl  claimed  something  at  my  hands;  at  least — 
friendship ;  and  whatever  was  or  was  not,  in  heaven  above  or 
in  hell  below,  if  hell  or  heaven  there  were,  yet  here,  upon  the 
round  earth,  something  real,  delectable  (as  I  thought),  holy, 
presented  itself,  not  for  my  contemplation — I  had  had  enough 
of  that — but  for  positive  thought,  and  action,  and  feeling. 
Something  objective,  something  real,  something  true. 

Thus  I  reasoned  then. 

Of  course  I  knew  not  when  I  should  hear  from  Leila  again. 
It  did  not  much  matter,  so  long  as  I  was  assured  of  the  tie 
between  us.  I  could  now  resume  my  studies ;  I  could  look 
more  minutely  into  Dc  Lisle's  theory  of  life.  Strange  to  say, 
I  felt  less  repugnance  to  it  than  before.  I  began  to  take  a 
deeper  interest  in  things  about  me.  Nature  seemed  more 
joyous ;  and  when  De  Lisle  said,  in  his  tranquil  tone,  "  See 
you  not  God  stirring  through  all  this? — here,  and  there? 
above,  around,  everywhere?  All  is  God,  and  God  all!"  —  I 
murmured  an  almost  satisfied  assent. 

Yet  I  was  not  happy. 


VII. 

No,  I  was  not  happy.  Though  I  had  achieved  much  in 
serenity  of  feeling;  and  notwithstanding  my  repeated  self-as- 
surances of  independence,  I  continued  to  ask  myself  what  it 
was  I  had  gained,  and  where  I  stood.  The  futui-e,  with  what 
seemed  its  solemn  realities,  had  heretofore  pressed  heavily 
upon  me.  My  great  difficulty  had  been  to  connect  the  pres- 
pnt  life  with  a  life  to  come,  and  to  fix  the  relations  between 
them.  For  faith  had  never  been  sufficiently  cherished  by  me  ; 
and  without  this   groat    connecting  link  between  two  worlds, 


SAINT  LEGER.  205 

what  wonder  that  difficulties   arose  which  I  could  not  over- 
come. 

But  in  my  present  course  I  was  not  to  be  distressed  with 
doubts  or  fears.  I  tried  to  assume  the  quiet  tone  that  char- 
acterized De  Lisle,  and  with  calmness  to  regard  my  vicissi- 
tudes as  necessary  results  of  causes  long  antecedent. 

Unfortunately  mine  was  not  the  temper  for  such  compla- 
cency. Besides,  I  had  a  fresh  enemy  to  contend  with,  one 
hitherto  quite  unknown ;  the  idea  of  Death  constantly  obtru- 
ding before  my  mind.  I  had  never  regarded  that  consumma- 
tion with  any  peculiar  dread ;  but  now,  I  could  not  indulge 
in  a  momentary  anticipation  but  the  grim  form  of  the  De- 
stroyer would  stalk  before  me  and  whisper,  "  I  will  soon  be 
with  you!"  To  be  haunted  with  a  positive  coming  evil  is 
terrible;  but  to  be  tortured  with  fears  of  what  may  be,  be-- 
cause  we  know  nothing  and  will  believe  nothing  of  what  is  to 
be,  is  still  more  dreadful. 

One  thing  I  did  know.  Death  would  close  all  my  earthly 
relations.  The  beyond — the  beyond  !  what  had  it  to  do  with 
me  ?  So  long  as  I  kept  my  hold  on  life,  my  philosophy  bore 
me  along  smoothly  enough.  I  was  a  monarch ;  all  were  mon- 
archs.  But  when  I  had  to  admit  that  at  any  moment  this 
framework  was  liable  to  be  shattered,  resolved  into  the  dust 
that  composed  it,  and  my  spirit  diffused  into  the  elements,  to 
enter  into  new  combinations,  or  return  to  what  it  had  been 
before  it  was  me ;  when  the  obtrusive  thought  came  that  I 
should  then  lose  my  individuality,  my  identity — my  very  self 
—  ah,  my  God  !  what  terrific  apprehensions  would  gather  in 
clouds  about  my  heart !  It  is  impossible  to  describe  these 
tortures.  I  tried  to  elude  them  by  looking  altogether  earth- 
ward ;  but  the  more  I  sought  satisfaction  from  the  prospect, 
the  greater  became  the  power  of  these  distracting  influences. 
By  what  spectral  horrors  was  I  haunted  !     Yet  I  roused  my- 


2Q6  SAINT  LEGER. 

self,  and  with  all  my  strength  determined  to  oppose  and  break 
the  spells  that  were  upon  me.  I  found  I  could  not  cope  with 
them  single-handed;  that  I  must  call  to  my  aid  a  superior 
energy  ;  for  my  enemy  was  beyond  any  mortal  power.  Alas  ! 
I  acknowledged  no  superior.  So,  in  the  moment  of  my  chief- 
est  exaltation  I  was  in  the  greatest  need. 

VIII. 

I  will  not  enter  more  minutely  into  a  detail  of  my  mental 
struggles.  They  partook  mainly  of  the  character  heretofore 
described.  After  battling  with  them  for  nearly  three  years,  I 
felt  convinced  that  I  must  seek  some  new  ground  or  yield  to 
them.  To  travel  had  always  been  my  delight.  The  prospect 
of  a  journey  was  in  itself  a  restorative  to  my  spirits ;  and  I 
looked  to  change  of  scene  as  my  only  resource.  I  cast  my 
eyes  toward  Germany.  There  I  should  find  religion,  philoso- 
phy, and  romance.  There  I  could  commune  with  men-stu- 
dents, with  busy,  active,  independent  thinkers.  There  I 
should  behold  every  beauty  of  scenery,  with  wild  legends  of 
the  past,  and  a  present  glowing  with  wonders  ;  and  the  rising 
fame  of  several  German  names  promising  a  bright  poetic  day 
fin-  their  fatherland,  served  also  to  impel  me  thither.  I  told 
De  Lisle  my  wish.  He  at  once  fell  in  with  it,  and  promised 
his  influence  with  my  father ;  for  the  same  reason  perhaps 
that  physicians  recommend  change  of  scene  to  an  incurable 
patient,  to  escape  the  responsibility  of  a  death.  I  do  believe 
De  Lisle  thought  me  incurable  ;  but  I  will  do  him  the  justice 
to  say  that  his  attention  to  my  education  was  faithful ;  and  as 
he  was  ever)  way  competent,  I  made  rapid  advancement  un- 
der  his  instruction.  As  was  agreed  upon,  he  sought  an  inter- 
view with  my  father,  and  obtained  permission,  with  less  diffi- 
culty than  was  anticipated,  for  me  to  visit  the  continent.     The 


SAINT    LEGEIl.  207 

favorable  report  he  was  pleased  to  make  of  my  studies,  with 
the  opinion  that  it  would  be  advisable  for  me  to  continue 
them  abroad,  induced  my  father's  consent  to  my  going.  As 
I  have  before  said,  he  was  an  indulgent  although  an  exacting 
parent ;  and  if  his  children  came  up  to  his  requirements  his 
favors  were  not  measured  with  a  scanty  hand.  Of  course  he 
knew  nothing  of  my  inner  life  ;  my  trials,  my  heart-strivings  ; 
but  he  knew  the  rapid  progress  T  had  made  in  my  studies, 
and  was  willing  and  happy  to  reward  me.  One  restriction 
was  imposed ;  I  was  not  to  spend  any  time  in  France  nor  up- 
on the  route  toward  the  place  of  my  destination,  which  was 
Leipsic.  Should  I  continue  to  deserve  the  praise  of  a  dili- 
gent student,  I  was  promised,  after  a  period,  the  privilege  of 
an  entire  tour  of  Europe. 

How  my  heart  beat  with  excitement  at  the  prospect  of 
breaking  loose  !  I  forgot  every  grief,  every  trouble,  in  the 
anticipation  of  what  was  before  me.  Even  my  grim  enemy, 
Death,  seemed  willing  for  a  while  to  make  a  truce,  and  was 
no  longer  thrusting  his  icy  finger  before  my  eyes.  Still  all 
did  not  go  smoothly.  My  mother  strongly  opposed  my  leav- 
ing England.  She  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  my  going 
alone  to  a  foreign  country,  to  be  exposed  to  all  the  tempta- 
tions to  which  youth  are  subject.  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
state  of  my  mind,  as  I  have  before  hinted,  but  she  saw  that 
something  disturbed  my  peace  ;  and  she  pictured  to  herself 
the  thousand  evils  a  foreign  life  would  bring  upon  me ;  es- 
pecially she  feared  the  corruption  of  my  religious  sentiments. 
Alas !  she  little  knew  the  fearful  change  which  had  already 
taken  place.  Still  it  was  settled  that  I  should  go,  and  the  day 
fixed  for  my  departure  arrived.  A  little  while  before  I  was 
to  leave,  my  mother  desired  me  to  accompany  her  into  the 
garden,  which  sloped  away  from  one  side  of  the  house.  She' 
took  my  arm   and  walked  with  me  into  a  small  arbor  at  the 


208  SAINT  LEGER. 

extremity  of  a  shaded  walk.  Then  she  threw  her  arms 
around  my  neck  and  burst  into  tears.  As  soon  as  she  became 
composed,  she  raised  her  head,  and  laid  her  hand  im- 
pressively on  my  shoulder  :  "  William."  said  she,  "  dearly, 
dearly  as  I  love  you,  it  would  grieve  me  less  to  see  you  borne 
upon  your  bier  into  the  tomb  than  to  behold  you  as  I  do  about 
to  start  upon  this  unhappy  journey.  But  the  decision  is 
made  ;  you  go ;  but  oh,  William,  do  not  forget  God  ;  forget  not 
your  Savior;  and  may  the  sweet  influences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  rest  upon  you." 

She  kissed  my  forehead  with  fervor,  and  left  me  to  myself. 

I  was  sensibly  affected,  and  felt  ready  to  abandon  every 
new  speculation,  even  my  journey;  but  after  a  few  moments, 
the  thought  of  what  lay  before  me,  should  I  remain,  decided 
me.  I  could  not  stay.  With  my  father  the  leave-taking  was 
peculiar.  He  called  me  into  his  private  room  and  re- 
quested me  to  be  seated.  His  words  were  few  and  to  the 
point.  "  My  son,"  said  he,  "  in  sending  you  to  a  strange 
land  I  have  not  forgotten  that  you  are  still  liable  to  the  temp- 
tations which  beset  the  young.  But  I  have  great  confidence 
in  your  integrity  of  character  and  in  your  self-respect.  You 
will  travel  alone  to  Leipsic.  Here  is  a  small  chart,  upon 
which  I  have  indicated  the  route  I  wish  you  to  pursue.  You 
will  perceive  that  1  have  not  confined  you  to  the  direct  course. 
By  following  the  chart,  you  will  see,  in  a  rapid  way,  France, 
Switzerland,  and  some  of  the  German  provinces.  Take  this 
letter.  It  is  addressed  to  the  learned  and  good  Doctor  Jo- 
hann  Von  Hofrath.  He  was  my  early  preceptor.  He  will 
be  your  friend.  He  will  receive  you  into  his  house,  and  will 
direct  your  studies.  I  have  written  him  fully.  I  want  no 
public  teaching,  where  young  men  herd  together  for  their 
ruin.  In  parting,  my  advice  is,  that  you  bear  in  mind  the  un- 
certainty of  all  things  earthly,  with  reference  to  your  account- 


SAINT  LEGER.  209 

ability  to  Gon.  Read  the  Sermon  upon  the  Mount,  and  the 
parables  of  the  Savior,  the  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  and  the 
Ecclesiastes.  Make  them  your  study.  Do  your  whole  duty, 
and  receive  a  parent's  blessing.  May  the  Father  of  your 
fathers  go  with  you,  guide  you,  and  bring  you  again  in  safety 
to  your  home." 

IX. 

All  was  ready  for  my  journey.  I  was  to  leave  at  seven  in 
the  evening,  and  the  clock  had  struck  the  hour.  I  bade  our 
family  farewell,  shook  De  Lisle  warmly  by  the  hand,  and 
departed.  At  last  I  was  thrown  fairly  upon  my  own  resources. 
"  The  world  was  all  before  me,"  and  my  spirits  were  as  buoyant 
as  if  they  had  never  known  depression.  I  had  first  to  go  to ' 
London.  Thence  my  route  was  to  Dover  through  Gravesend, 
Rochester,  and  Canterbury.  Arrived  at  Dover,  I  took  a  small 
packet  for  Boulogne,  and  the  wind  being  favorable,  we  ran 
over  in  about  six  hours.  I  was  in  France.  It  seemed  like 
stepping  out  from  noon-day  into  twilight.  Everything  wore 
an  unreal  aspect.  I  was  examined  suspiciously,  my  passport 
subjected  to  the  minutest  scrutiny  and  myself  with  it.  I  spoke 
French  well,  and  with  but  a  slight  accent.  This  occasioned 
considerable  conjecture ;  but  after  some  delay  I  was  suffered 
to  proceed  to  Paris.  I  took  the  route  by  Amiens,  and  stopped 
a  few  hours  there  to  view  the  cathedral.  On  the  evening  of 
a  dusty  day  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  just  as  the  lamps  had 
begun  to  be  lighted,  I  entered  Paris.  I  was  full  of  excite- 
ment. I  thought  of  the  story  of  the  Wcedallah,  and  every 
particular  of  his  tale  came  vividly  to  mind.  Here  was  the 
scene  of  my  kinsman's  follies  ;  here  he  met  his  dreadful  fate. 
But  I  looked  further  back.  Here  reigned  Louis  the  Great ; 
here  schemed  the  mighty  cardinal  ;  and  here  they  languished 
14 


210  PAINT  LEGER. 

like  other  men,  arid  languishing,  died  !  Here  succeeded  the 
fifteenth  Louis,  who,  as  he  could  not  aspire  to  the  greatness 
of  his  predecessor,  strove  to  rival  him  in  the  dissoluteness  of 
his  court.  And  now  here  I  could  witness  the  weakness  of 
Louis  the  Sixteenth,  and  the  seeds  of  revolt  and  misrule  al- 
ready springing  up. 

I  could  not  stop  in  Paris,  much  as  I  desired  to  do  so.  My 
instructions  were  positive,  and  I  went  next  to  Lyons.  Pre- 
viously however  to  leaving  Paris,  I  took  my  way  to  the  rue 
Copeau,  full  of  a  feverish  curiosity  to  behold  the  spot  where 
Wilfred  Saint  Leger  lived  and  loved,  and  was  faithless,  and 
where  at  last  he  fell  by  the  hand  of  Moncrieff. 

I  found  the  house,  but  it  was  tenantless.  Dust  and  cob- 
webs had  accumulated  over  the  gateway,  and  an  appearance 
of  desolation  and  gloom  pervaded  the  building.  I  could  not 
satisfy  my  desire  to  visit  the  garden.  Away  over  the  roof, 
however,  I  could  discern  the  turrets  of  the  nunnery,  whose 
chimes  told  the  Wcedallah  so  impressively  the  hour  of  eight. 
I  pictured  in  my  fancy  the  garden  and  the  bower,  and  could 
see  the  combatants  engaging  in  their  fatal  strife. 


I  posted  to  Lyons.  The  journey  was  tedious,  and  render- 
ed sufficiently  disagreeable  by  the  constant  inspection  and  ex- 
amination to  which  I  was  subjected.  I  was  in  haste  to  enter 
Switzerland  ;  so  without  stopping  long  enough  to  recover  from 
my  fatigue,  I  set  off  for  Geneva.  How  great  the  transition 
from  one  country  to  the  other  !  In  civil  polity,  in  character, 
in  manners  and  customs,  in  opinions  and  sentiments,  in  nat- 
ural position  and  scenery,  how  unlike  were  the  French  and 
Swiss  !  But  I  will  not  turn  aside  from  the  design  of  my  nar- 
rative to  picture  all  I  saw  and  all  I  enjoyed.     There  rose  the 


SAINT  LEGEH.  2H 

threatening  Jura ;  here  was  Mont  Blanc,  and  in  the  distance 
the  snow-capped  Alps.  I  felt  grateful  to  my  father  for  allow- 
ing such  an  agreeable  departure  from  a  direct  route.  From 
Geneva,  I  passed  to  the  foot  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  stopped  in 
the  pleasant  village  of  Chamouni.  I  had  admired  the  grandeur 
of  Scottish  scenery,  but  how  did  it  dwarf  before  the  stupendous 
Alp  !  What  were  even  the  wonders  of  St.  Kilda,  compared 
with  the  awful  magnificence  of  the  Mer-de-Glace,  or  the 
perils  of  the  pass  of  the  Tete  Noire.  I  nine  next  to  the 
valley  of  the  Rhone.  Stopping  a  night  at  Lausanne,  1  pro- 
ceeded through  Berne,  Luzerne,  and  Zurich,  to  Schaffhausen, 
where  I  first  saw  the  Rhine.  My  spirits  rose  as  I  went  on, 
and  now  my  heart  beat  with  an  almost  healthful  glow.  Passing 
through  Carlsruhe  and  Mayence,  I  found  myself,  after  a  ride 
of  a  few  hours  from  the  latter  place,  at  Frankfort-on-t he- 
Maine.  Everything  about  me  told  emphatically  of  the  Ger- 
man. The  steady  aspect,  the  substantial  bearing,  the  ever- 
present  perfume  of  tobacco-smoke,  and  the  thoughtful,  com- 
posed, sedate  look  of  the  smokers,  were  indeed  significant 
of  my  whereabout.  I  passed  a  pleasant  day  in  Frankfort, 
and  proceeded  on  my  route. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  after  leaving  Frankfort, 
I  arrived  in  Leipsic.  I  was  agreeably  disappointed  in  the 
appearance  of  the  town  ;  and  .as  we  passed  through  the  well- 
built  suburbs,  the  sight  of  the  beautiful  gardens,  which  belong 
to  almost  every  house,  produced  a  cheering  impression.  I 
had  reached  my  place  of  destination,  and  almost  for  the  first 
time  felt  the  fatigues  of  my  long  journey.  I  retired  soon  after  I 
reached  my  hotel,  and  slumbered  soundly. 


212 


SAINT  LEGER. 


XI. 


The  next  morning  I  sat  out  early  to  seek  the  residence  of 
Joliann  Von  Hofrath.  I  learned  that  it  was  near  the  Rosen- 
thal, a  short  way  out  of  town,  by  a  pleasant  road.  As  I  was 
anxious  to  look  about  me,  I  sat  out  for  it  on  foot.  I  had  at 
last  arrived  at  the  wished-for  spot.  I  was  in  the  very  heart 
of  Germany.  Here  was  the  field  where  religious  freedom 
had  triumphed,  after  a  conflict  which  could  never  be  forgot- 
ten. What  great  names  were  associated  with  almost  every 
locality  !  I  felt  that  the  ground  was  sacred.  Passing  through 
the  suburbs,  I  came  into  the  open  country,  and  after  a  little 
inquiry,  stopped  before  the  door  of  the  learned  professor. 

A  stout,  hearty-looking  servant  girl  answered  my  summons, 
and  requested  me  to  enter.  I  did  so ;  and  was  ushered  into 
a  neat  but  plain  apartment,  where  I  found  a  young  girl,  ap- 
parently about  seventeen,  engaged  with  her  needle.  She 
looked  up  as  I  entered,  but  did  not  start  or  blush,  or  manifest 
any  of  the  usual  signs  which  an  English  girl  would  so  cer- 
tainly have  exhibited  on  a  like  occasion.  With  a  modest  but  at 
the  same  time  a  self-possessed  air,  she  asked  me  whom  I 
would  see  1  I  answered,  "  The  professor  Johann  Von 
Hofrath."  My  accent,  as  I  said  this,  in  only  tolerable  Ger- 
man, made  the  girl  hesitate;  but  she  presently  replied,  "The 
professor  will  be  in  soon;  will  you  be  seated?"  I  took  a 
chair,  and  she  resumed  her  work.  Of  course  I  had  little  else 
to  do  but  to  observe  her.  I  did  not  neglect  the  opportunity ; 
and  as  the  image  of  that  young  girl  has  never  been  effaced 
from  my  memory  —  as  I  have  never  forgotten  her,  and  never 
shall  forget  her — I  may  be  excused  for  pausing  to  describe 
her  appearance. 


SAINT  LEGER.  213 

She  was  of  a  little  more  than  the  ordinary  stature.  Her 
figure  was  slight  but  exquisite,  combining  grace  with  dignity. 
Her  complexion  was  fair,  and  some  light  brown  hair,  in 
ringlets,  partly  shaded  a  brow  which  for  intellectual  beauty  I 
had  never  seen  equalled. 

Her  face  was  not  altogether  faultless,  for  the  features,  al- 
though singularly  expressive,  were  not  regular.  Her  eyes 
were  blue,  not  very  large,  yet  full  of  intelligence  and  feeling. 
Beyond  all,  her  unpretending  dignity  and  self-possession  were 
unlike  anything  I  ever  beheld.  They  seemed  to  be  derived 
entirely  from  a  remarkable  innocence  and  purity  of  heart, 
which  rendered  the  possessor  perfectly  at  ease  under  any  cir- 
cumstances. With  what  interest  did  I  behold  her  !  How  did 
that  interest  strengthen  and  increase,  day  after  day,  when  I 
came  to  know  her  !     But  I  will  not  anticipate. 

An  hour  passed,  and  the  professor  came  not.  Once  only 
had  the  girl  spoken,  and  then  but  to  say  that  something  un- 
usual must  have  detained  her  father,  who  certainly  would 
not  be  long  away ;  and  that  if  I  preferred,  I  could  walk 
into  the  library,  where  I  would  find  books  to  entertain  me, 
or  I  could  stroll  in  the  garden.  As  there  was  no  hope  in 
either  case  of  any  companion,  I  declined,  upon  the  ground 
that  I  was  fatigued  by  long  journeying  and  my  morning's  walk, 
and  that  I  preferred  my  seat  by  the  window.  I  hoped  this 
reply  might  provoke  conversation ;  but  she  only  looked  at 
me  a  moment,  in  a  half-inquiring  manner,  and  then  continued 
to  ply  her  needle. 

Another  hour  passed  (it  did  not  seem  very  long),  and  I 
heard  some  one  approach  the  house.  In  a  moment  an  old 
man  entered,  with  another  in  his  company.  I  did  not  doubt 
that  my  host  was  before  me.  I  was  at  once  relieved  by  the 
daughter,  who  announced  him  as  her  father.  I  handed  Herr 
Von  Hofrath  my  letter  of  introduction.     He  glanced  hastily 


214  SAINT  LEGEIl. 

at  it,  and  then  seized  me  cordially  by  the  hand,  exclaiming : 
"  This,  then,  is  my  young  Wilhelm  1  I  have  been  expecting 
you  several  days.     You  are  welcome.     Here  is  your  home." 

While  he  was  addressing  me,  I  was  hastily  surveying  his 
appearance.  He  was  of  middle  stature,  with  hair  as  white  as 
snow,  yet  the  bright  expression  of  his  clear  gray  eye,  the 
ruddy  hue  upon  his  cheek,  and  his  almost  youthful  step, 
showed  him  in  the  full  possession  of  his  faculties,  mental  and 
physical,  and  that  he  was  enjoying  in  an  eminent  degree  a 
vigorous  age.  The  kind-hearted  old  man  continued  to  ad- 
dress me  words  of  welcome,  which  I  know  came  from  his 
heart,  and  which  were  peculiarly  grateful  to  my  feelings. 
At  length  he  stopped,  turned  quickly  around,  and  addressed 
his  companion :  "  Wolfgang,  this  is  a  young  stranger  who  has 
come  to  spend  a  season  in  our  good  fatherland.  He  is  from 
England." 

"The  country  of  William  Shakspere,"  replied  the  other, 
in  a  deep,  rich  voice,  turning  upon  me  dark,  brilliant  eyes, 
the  expression  of  which  I  shall  not  forget.  It  was  now  for 
me  to  regard  the  last  speaker,  whom  I  had  before  scarcely 
noticed,  so  absorbed  had  I  been  in  Herr  Von  Hofrath. 
Directing  my  attention  to  him,  I  perceived  a  man  apparent- 
ly not  much  past  thirty,  of  fine  stature,  and  with  an  air  of 
majestic  dignity.  His  features  were  symmetrical,  but  large 
and  open.  Rarely  could  so  much  beauty  be  found  united 
with  so  much  manliness.  There  was  something  about  him 
which  indicated  such  healthful  self-confidence,  hopefulness, 
courage,  faith,  that  I  was  irresistibly  drawn  toward  him. 

"The  country  of  William  Shakspere!"  —  the  words 
seemed  spoken  more  to  himself  than  to  any  one  else,  as  if 
England  was  especially  associated  in  his  mind  with  Shak- 
spere, and  as  if  the  name  of  Shakspere  was  to  him  a  talis- 
man. 


SAINT  LEGER.  215 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  professor,  "  and  my  young  friend  will 
rejoice  to  find  that  Germans  appreciate  the  great  dramatist." 

"And  I  am  glad,"  said  the  other,  recovering  from  what 
seemed  a  revery,  "  to  welcome  an  Englishman  to  our  Ger- 
man soil." 

The  stranger  bowed  courteously  as  he  spoke,  and  a  winning 
smile  illuminated  his  countenance,  making  him  appear  still 
more  attractive.  As  yet  I  had  not  heard  his  name,  and  I 
waited  with  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  for  the  information. 

"  You  have  forgotten  Theresa,  or  rather  you  will  not 
recognise  your  little  plaything  in  that  tall  girl,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor, "  hut  I  see  she  remembers  you." 

"  Forgotten  her !"  said  the  other,  good-humoredly,  as  he 
advanced  toward  my  new  acquaintance,  whom  he  saluted  on 
either  cheek,  while  the  latter  appeared  to  find  in  the  visi- 
ter an  old  friend ;  "  forgotten  her !  I  need  not  deny  a 
thing  so  impossible.  Theresa  will  not  believe  such  slander 
of  me." 

Again  I  was  disappointed.  I  did  not  hear  the  name  of  the 
Unknown. 

At  this  moment  we  were  summoned  into  the  next  room  to 
dinner.  It  could  not  have  been  later  than  one  o'clock.  So 
much,  thought  I,  for  the  simple  manners  of  the  nation  in  which 
I  have  come  to  live.  I  managed  to  get  through  with  the  peculiar 
varieties  of  a  German  dinner  with  a  tolerable  zest ;  but  we 
had  a  far  better  entertainment  than  that  upon  the  table.  Our 
host  was  full  of  animation,  and  conversed  with  a  lively  humor, 
very  remarkable  in  a  person  of  his  years.  His  friend  was 
still  more  remarkable;  for  without  appearing  to  do  so,  he 
went  far  beyond  the  professor.  Whatever  he  said  came  forth 
without  the  slightest  apparent  effort;  spontaneously,  as  if  it, 
was;  not  to  be  restrained.  I  was  perfectly  amazed,  at  the 
strange,  wild  fantasies,  at  the  magnificent  thoughts  which  the 


216  SAINT  LEGER. 

stranger  poured  forth  one  after  another  without  the  least 
hesitation.  What  rapid  perception,  what  keen  appreciation, 
what  humor,  what  pathos,  what  power  !  I  was  sure  that  I 
was  in  the  presence  of  a  great  genius.  But  who  could 
he  be? 

Theresa  sat  quietly,  listening  with  interest  to  the  con- 
versation, and  I  too  sat  with  open  ears,  eager  to  gather  all  that 
was  said.  Questions  were  frequently  put  to  me  by  both, 
which  I  answered  as  readily  as  my  knowledge  of  the  lan- 
guage would  permit.  One  thing  I  discovered  during  the 
conversation  :  that  Herr  Von  Hofrath  was  a  devout  man. 
His  remarks  indicated  this  emphatically.  A  healthful  tone 
pervaded  all  his  words,  and  I  knew  his  thoughts  were  genu- 
ine.    How  I  loved  the  noble-hearted  old  man  ! 

Dinner  and  its  appendages  over,  we  returned  to  the  sitting- 
room.  The  stranger  went  up  to  a  small  table  on  which  sev- 
eral books  were  lying,  and  took  up  one  of  them.  "  Blank  !" 
he  exclaimed,  turning  to  Theresa  :  "  what  is  this  waiting  for  V 

"  For  your  imprimatur,"  answered  the  maiden.  "  It  is  to 
be  my  album.  You  come  in  good  time  to  put  down  the  first 
line  upon  the  first  page."  She  took  the  book  as  she  spoke, 
opened  to  the  page,  and  said,  "  Proceed." 

The  countenance  of  the  stranger  assumed  a  thoughtful 
aspect.  He  took  a  pencil,  and  without  hesitation  traced  the 
following  lines.  I  translate  them  into  English  at  the  expense 
of  both  beauty  and  force  of  expression : 

"  THE  ALBUM  OF  THERESA. 

"  "  Begun"  and  •  Ended,'  two  brief  words,  contain 

The  whole  of  what  it  is  and  is  to  be ; 
Farther  than  this  all  prophecy  is  vain  ; 

Our  eyes  are  blinded  ;  we  can  not  foresee 
The  shadowy  future  ;  yet  perhaps  't  were  well 

On  its  uncertain  incidents  awhile  to  dwell !" 

"Your  name!  your  name!"  said  Theresa,  as  he  handed 


SAINT  LEGEll.  217 

her  back  the  volume;  "  you  must  seal  what  you  say."     He 
took  the  book  again,  and  in  fair,  distinct  characters,  wrote : 

I  had  no  time  to  express  my  admiration  or  astonishment  on 
beholding  the  rising  wonder  of  Germany  ;  for  the  professor 
coming  up  exclaimed  :  "  Wolfgang,  something  more  Theresa 
will  require  of  you  than  a  half-dozen  lines,  scored  by  way  of 
imprint  on  the  titlepage.  Come,  be  not  a  miser  of  your 
thoughts." 

The  poet  took  the  book  again,  cast  an  almost  mournful 
smile  upon  the  maiden,  and  selecting  another  page,  wrote  as 
follows : 

u  Strange  are  the  thoughts  that  swell 
Full  in  the  breast  — 
Thoughts  that  uo  longer  dwell 
Calmly  at  rest. 
They  rise,  they  rise,  be  they  mournful  or  glad, 
Like  the  sum  <sf  existence,  both  joyous  and  sad  ; 
While  the  thoughtless  laugh  and  sport  and  are  gay, 
The  sorrowing  heart  bleeds  afresh  every  day; 
Still  the  whirl  goes  round  and  round, 

Now  't  is  the  happy  laugh,  then  comes  the  plaintive  sound; 
Mingling,  mingling  joy  and  sorrow  — 
Today  't  is  joy,  't  is  wo  to-morrow  ; 
And  time  rolls  on,  'till  our  brief  life  has  passed, 
And  the  grave  closes  over  all  at  last." 

**  Wolfgang,"  said  the  professor,  seriously,  after  reading 
what  the  other  had  written,  "  this  is  well  ;  nay,  it  is  beautiful. 
Bui  it  is  incomplete." 

"  Finish  it;  I  pray  you  finish  it,"  said  Goethe,  sadly  :  "  To 
please  your  once  loved  pupil,  finish  it." 

The  old  man,  thus  invoked,  took  the  album,  and  leaving  a 
short  space,  continued  as  follows  : 

"  Such  is  the  history  of  existence  here, 
Brief  as  it  is,  and  incomplete,  and  vain, 
Not  worth  the  living  for,  could  we  not  look 
Bet/oiid,  and  grat,p  existence  infinite. 


2] g  BAIKT  I.KGER. 

Without  the  promise  of  a  life  to  come, 

There's  naught  indeed  to  cbeer  the  heart  of  man, 

For  all  is  dark  within  and  gloom  without. 

E'en  the  brief  sunshine  of  a  happy  day 

Bring!  but  the  thought  that  when  the  morrow  comes 

Clouds  will  obscure  the  whole,  and  damp  the  joys 

Just  rising  in  the  bosom.     Is  it  so  ? 

Is  life  so  cheerless  ?  Is  it  really  naught  !  — 

Witliout  the  promise,  yes  ;  but,  thanks  to  God, 

The  promise  stands  for  ever  linn  and  sure — 

'  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life, 

Believe  in  me,  though  dead  yet  shalt  thou  live.' 

Existence,  then,  is  not  an  idle  dream, 

If  'tis  probation  for  the  life  to  come  ; 

For  here  we're  fitted  for  another  world  — 

Fitted  for  weal  or  wo — how  dread  the  thought ! 

And  now  we  see  why  life's  so  full  of  change, 

Of  blended  shades  of  joy,  and   pain,  and  sorrow  ; 

Why  we  are  tried, our  bosoms  torn,  our  hearts 

Broken  and  crashed;  were  there  no  sorrows  here, 

Who  would  aspire  to  heaven,  or  seek  the  joys 

That  (low  perennial  from  the  throne  of  God  ? 

Compared  with  which  earth's  glories  are  but  dross. 

Bleat  then  be  life,  mysterious  life  :  and  blest 

Be  God  who  gave  it;  who  created  man 

For  wisest  purposes.     Nor  farther  ask, 

But  humbly  seek  his  favor;  learn  of  him, 

And  if  you  would  be  happy,  DO  HIS  will." 

The  old  man  closed  the  book,  and  banded  if  with  a  solemn 
air  to  his  young  friend.  The  latter  read  what  had  been  writ- 
ten with  serious  attention  :  then  turning  toward  tbe  professor, 
he  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  laying  his  hand  irn- 
ely  upon  the  arm  of  the  other, exclaimed  with  dignity, 
"  1)  ictOCt  do  not  misinterpret  me:  I  BELIEVE." 


XII. 

I  believe!  Those  words  were  lull  of  meaning;  and  in 
every  situation,  under  every  trial,  in  the  midsl  of  scenes  the 
most  exciting,  I  have  remembered  them.  Strange  to  say,  the 
first  lesson  which  I  learned  in  Germany,  the  land  of  mystical 
philosophy,  of  wild  theories,  and  of  wilder  doubts,  was  Be- 


SAINT  LEGER.  219 

lief  ;  and  that  too  from  the  most  remarkable  individual,  every 
way  considered,  of  whom  Germany  could  boast.  But  did 
Goethe  believe  t  1  will  not  vouch  for  it ;  I  am  only  confident 
of  his  assertion  that  he  did  ;  and  T  will  not  think  that  he  was 
a  man  to  palter.  But  for  my  purpose  it  was  of  no  conse- 
quence, so  long  as  the  exclamation  was  evidence  of  his  opin- 
ion. And  had  1  wandered  so  far  to  learn  the  simple  lesson 
from  him  ?  Yes.  And  now.  just  as  the  German  is  ascend- 
ing to  his  zenith,  I,  so  many  years  his  junior — I,  who  have 
had  the  same  glowing  energy,  the  same  healthful,  hopeful 
ambition,  the  same  unchanging,  determined  aspirations  —  I 
must  stop  short  when  I  have  scarce  entered  the  lists.  I  see 
the  door  closed  upon  me  just  as  I  essay  to  cross  the  threshold. 
The  pitcher  is  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the  wheel  is  broken 
at  the  cistern,  before  a  draught  of  the  refreshing  waters  is 
conveyed  to  me;  and  when  the  reward  of  past  struggles  and 
of  present  exertions  appears  to  be  close  at  hand,  I  am  called 
away,  to  be  here  no  more.  God  forgive  me  for  this  mo- 
mentary murmur!  I  know  that  his  purposes  are  true,  and 
none  can  question  them.  Come  then  to  my  aid,  O  sat  red 
Faith,  in  this  moment  of  my  weakness,  and  give  me  strength. 
Teach  me  that  although  we  work  here,  and  know  compara- 
tively nothing,  yet  we  live  always;  that  knowledge  is  and 
ever  has  been  progressive ;  thai  the  soul  of  man  is  as  capa- 
cious as  his  aspirations  are  boundless,  and  that  he  has  before 
him  duration  infinite,  in  which  to  labor  and  to  Know. 


XIII. 

The  professor  and  his  former  pupil  stood  face  to  face.  It 
was  a  Striking  picture.  1  wish  1  could  sketch  it.  The  poet, 
in  ill  a  exuberant  maturity  of  early  manhood,  with  his  open 
brow,   his  lofty   look,  and  earnest   demeanor,  in   which  one 


220  SAINT  LEGER. 

might  read  much  hopefulness  and  a  strong  will,  great  energy 
and  an  untiring  patience,  stood  self-relying  and  firm.  The 
appearance  of  the  professor  was  more  chastened,  more  sub- 
dued ;  exhibiting  equal  firmness,  with  less  determination :  a 
higher  faith,  with  less  self-confidence.  Benevolence  and  every 
Christian  virtue  were  in  his  countenance.  None  could  mis- 
take its  expression. 

At  this  moment  Theresa,  who,  with  myself,  had  been  an 
earnest  witness  of  what  was  passing,  broke  the  silence ; 
"  Herr  Von  Goethe,"  she  inquired,  modestly,  but  with  firm- 
ness, "  do  you  honor  the  sacraments  V 

"  I  honor  them,"  was  the  serious  reply  of  the  poet. 

"  But  do  you  attend  upon  them,  believing  in  their  efficacy  1" 

"  All  that  is  holy  is  efficacious  ;  all  that  is  Christian  is  holy," 
he  said. 

Theresa  paused,  as  if  not  satisfied,  then  quietly  seating  her- 
self, resumed  her  needle.  At  the  same  time  the  professor  in- 
vited his  guest  to  walk  into  the  garden,  whither  they  proceeded. 


XIV. 

I  was  left  alone  with  Theresa.  I  felt  embarrassed  ;  I  knew 
not  why;  I  tried  to  think  what  I  should  say  to  my  new  ac- 
quaintance, but  could  find  no  utterance  for  my  thoughts. 
To  me  the  silence  was  continually  becoming  more  awkward, 
when  Theresa,  looking  up  from  her  employment,  said  :  "  The 
gentleman  does  not  care  to  walk  in  the  garden ;  he  must  be 
fatigued.  Indeed,"  she  continued,  changing  the  person,  "  you 
must  have  had  a  toilsome  journey ;  and  you  have  left  your 
home,  too.     But  you  have  friends  here  in  Leipsic  V 

"None,"  I  replied,  touched  by  the  simplicity  of  her  man- 
ner.; "none,  unless  I  may  call  your  father  and  yourself  by 
that  title." 


SAINT  LEGER.  221 

"  And  why  may  you  not  ?  My  father  bade  you  welcome, 
and  by  that  I  know  he  is  your  friend.  And  if  he  is,  then 
am  I." 

There  was  in  this  something  so  peculiar,  so  different  from 
anything  I  ever  before  observed  in  my  intercourse  with  the 
sex,  that  I  was  puzzled.  Theresa  seemed  neither  diffident 
nor  embarrassed ;  yet  if  ever  true  modesty  marked  one's  de- 
meanor, it  certainly  gave  character  to  hers.  The  more  I  con- 
sidered, the  more  I  saw  to  admire ;  until  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion, which  a  subsequent  acquaintance  fully  sustained,  that 
she  was  by  nature  so  artless  and  single-minded — her  heart  so 
free  from  guile  —  that  she  gave  expression  to  her  real  feelings, 
and  spoke  unhesitatingly  as  she  thought. 

"  Were  you  not  unhappy  to  leave  your  home  and  come  so 
far  V 

"  No,  I  was  eager  to  get  away." 

"  Ah !  I  perceive,"  said  Theresa,  with  seriousness,  "  you 
have  lost  your  parents :   and  absence  was  a  relief." 

My  heart  smote  me  at  these  words,  for  I  thought  of  my 
mother.  "  No,  you  mistake  me  ;  my  parents  are  both  living, 
and  I  love  them  dearly." 

"  And  yet  you  were  desirous  to  leave  them  V* 

"  I  was,  though  not  for  the  sake  of  leaving  them." 

"  I  shall  understand  you  better  by-and-by,  perhaps,"  said 
Theresa. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  I  answered;  "so  I  will  only  say  now 
that  »I  come  here  to  prosecute  my  studies  under  the  direction 
of  your  father." 

"  What  course  do  you  commence  upon?" 

"  Philosophy,  I  think ;  for  I  am  deeply  interested  in  the 
great  German  thinkers." 

"  A  wearisome  and  unprofitable  pursuit,"  said  the  profes- 
sor's daughter,  with  an  almost  oracular  tone. 


222  SAINT  LEGER. 

I  looked  at  her,  surprised  at  the  remark ;  but  perceived  no 
change  from  her  previous  quiet  manner. 

"  Why  do  you  say  so  1"  L  asked,  curious  to  know  how  one 
so  young  could  speak  upon  such  a  subject  with  such  self-pos- 
session. 

"  Because  you  will  soon  become  involved  in  a  maze  of 
theories  ;  unsatisfied  with  one,  you  will  turn  to  another,  and 
then  speedily  to  another ;  and  so  on  through  the  whole,  until 
at  last  you  will  mock  at  all,  for  they  will  all  seem  to  mock  at 
you.  I  say  so,  because  I  witness  these  things  every  day :  but 
I  make  you  angry,"  said  Theresa,  quickly,  seeing  my  face 
suddenly  flushed.  "  I  have  spoken  what  you  do  not  like  ;  I 
am  sorry." 

It  was  indeed  true.  She  had  spoken  what  I  liked  not,  and 
my  face  was  flushed,  but  not  from  anger. 


XV. 

There  are  periods  in  the  experience  of  every  individual 
marked  by  a  crisis — sometimes  of  a  moral,  sometimes  of  an 
intellectual,  sometimes  of  a  merely  physical  nature ;  but  still 
a  crisis — when  it  is  suddenly  discovered  that  the  advance, 
which  we  have  flattered  ourselves  we  have  been  for  years 
making,  is  an  advance  toward  ruin ;  when,  on  a  sudden,  we 
behold,  instead  of  beauty  and  fair  proportion,  moral  hideous- 
ness  and  desolation  ;  instead  of  the  perfection  of  intellectual 
attainment,  an  intellect  oblique,  and  perverted,  and  abandoned ; 
when,  instead  of  a  physical  frame,  full  of  life,  and  health,  and 
strength,  we  discover  the  slow  but  certain  approach  of  the  in- 
sidious enemy,  disease.  I  am  sure  that  every  one  who  may 
read  this  page,  will  recognise,  if  not  in  all,  yet  in  some  part 
of  what  I  have  here  put  down,  judgments  which  his  own  ex- 
perience will  confirm.     And  in  the  cases  I  have  mentioned, 


SAINT  LEGER. 


223 


how  very  suddenly  does  the  light  hreak  upon  us ;  and  then 
how  unerring  and  how  plain  are  our  convictions — how  un- 
mistakeable  is  our  situation — how  we  wonder  at  our  blind- 
ness, at  our  stupidity,  in  not  earlier  discovering  it !  And  it  is 
not  by  any  uncommon  incident  that  we  are  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  our  position.  The  merest  trifle,  the  most  unimpor- 
tant occurrence,  a  word,  lightly  spoken,  breaks  the  spell,  and 
the  scene  is  changed! 

XVI. 

Instantaneously  I  awoke,  as  from  a  dream.  A  fearful 
reality,  which  I  dreaded  to  encounter,  frowned  forbiddingly 
upon  my  life's  fancies,  and  suddenly  they  were  no  more. 
"  You  will  mock  at  all,  for  they  all  will  seem  to  mock  at  you. ' 
I  say  so,  because  I  witness  these  things  every  day  !"  Had  the 
learned  professor,  or  the  great  Goethe,  or  any  distinguished 
philosopher,  closed  an  eloquent  discourse  with  this  sentence, 
I  doubt  if  it  would  have  affected  me.  I  should  have  regarded 
it  as  a  part  of  the  system  of  the  lecturer  to  utter  such  a  warn- 
ing ;  but  to  hear  from  the  lips  of  the  young  Theresa  so  strong, 
so  earnest,  yet  so  simple  an  argument,  in  language  so  clear 
and  forcible,  without  the  least  appearance  on  her  part  of  as- 
sumption or  display,  had  the  extraordinary  effect  upon  me  which 
I  have  just  described.  It  seemed  like  the  voice  of  an  angel 
pronouncing  against  me.  I  had  wandered  from  my  fatherland 
in  search  of  wisdom,  and  was  I  to  receive  such  a  lesson  from 
this  maiden  !  Were  the  teachings  of  all  the  learned  doctors  to 
be  set  at  naught  for  so  simple  a  remedy  ?  With  the  haughty 
Syrian,  I  was  ready  to  exclaim  :  "  Are  not  Abana  and  Phar- 
par,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all  the  waters  of  Israel? 
May  I  not  wash  in  them,  and  be  clean?" 

I  felt  the  impotence  of  the  question  before  I  could  myself 


22i  SAINT  LEGER. 

frame'  a  response.  At  a  distance  how  had  I  regarded  the 
great  German  thinkers  !  Close  at  hand,  in  very  communion 
with  them,  how  did  she,  the  young  Theresa,  regard  them  ? 
What  a  comment  did  the  answer  to  this  question  involve ! 
The  words  of  the  apostle  now  glowed  before  me  :  "  Beware 
lest  any  man  spoil  you  through  philosophy  and  vain  deceit." 
But  if  I  gave  up  all  hold  upon  my  philosophy,  I  was  lost.  I 
had  no  other  resource ;  I  could  go  nowhere  else. 


XVII. 

These  thoughts  passed  like  lightning  through  my  brain. 
One  minute  had  ticked  slowly  away,  and  the  revolution  was 
complete.  Theresa  sat  regarding  me  with  wonder.  She 
could  easily  see  that  something  had  powerfully  affected  me ; 
but  farther  all  was  a  mystery.  Her  voice  brought  me  back 
to  myself. 

"What  have  I  said1?  —  what  mistake  have  I  made? — why 
are  you  displeased  V  she  said. 

As  calmly  as  I  could,  I  assured  her  I  was  not  displeased, 
but  suddenly  indisposed,  in  a  way  I  would  hereafter  explain ; 
and,  pleading  fatigue,  attempted  to  take  my  leave,  that  I  might 
revisit  my  hotel.  The  professor  at  this  moment  came  in  with 
his  guest,  and  positively  forbade  my  doing  so.  "  Your  apart- 
ment has  been  ready  for  you  these  two  weeks,  and  if  my 
young  friend  is  indisposed,  he  may  go  to  it  at  once." 

I  was  glad  to  accept  his  offer.  I  was  shown  to  a  neat  and 
delightfully  situated  chamber,  where  everything  was  prepared 
with  a  due  regard  to  comfort  and  convenience.  I  felt  too 
agitated  to  think  more  at  present.  Besides,  I  was  really 
weary.  Early  as  it  was,  I  drew  the  curtains  and  got  into  my 
bed.  I  fell  into  a  disturbed  and  uneasy  slumber,  which  lasted 
well  into  the  following  morning. 


SAINT  LEGER.  225 


XVIII. 


I  did  not  awake  until  a  late  hour.  The  day  was  fine,  and 
looking  from  my  window,  I  found  the  view  delightful.  The 
house  was  nearly  surrounded  by  an  extensive  garden,  in  taste- 
ful walks  and  labyrinths,  at  the  extremity  of  which  was  a 
summer-house.  As  I  enjoyed  the  prospect,  I  saw  Theresa 
coming  down  an  avenue,  accompanied  by  her  distinguished 
guest.  They  were  in  close  and  apparently  interesting  con- 
versation, although  I  could  not  perceive  anything  peculiar  in 
the  manner  of  either.  The  former  maintained  her  modest 
self-possession ;  the  latter  the  same  noble  and  dignified  de- 
meanor. He  stopped  often  to  examine  the  most  minute  things, 
to  which  he  would  call  the  attention  of  his  companion.  Now 
the  variegated  colors  of  a  strange  flower  would  arrest  his 
steps ;  he  would  then  pause,  and  regard  with  singular  scru- 
tiny the  movements  of  a  spider  which  had  woven  his  mesh 
across  the  path  :  perhaps  a  butterfly  would  next  attract  him, 
or  a  bird  upon  the  wing,  or  an  insect  in  the  air.  Nothing 
seemed  to  escape  his  observation,  and  nothing  appeared  un- 
worthy of  it.  Presently  the  two  turned  and  entered  the 
house.  I  hastened  down,  and  in  answer  to  the  kind  inquiries 
of  all,  was  happy  to  declare  myself  "  much  better  in  every 
way." 


XIX. 

I  had  determined  to  explain  to  Theresa  the  cause  of  my 
singular  conduct  the  previous  evening,  and  was  in  hopes  that 
she  would  make   allusion  to  it.     She  did  not,  however,  but 
15 


226  SAINT  LEGER. 

evidently  avoided  it;  doubtless  with  a  design  to  save  my 
feelings.  After  breakfast,  the  professor  and  his  guest  went 
out  together ;  the  former  apologizing  to  me  for  the  seeming 
neglect,  on  the  ground  that  his  engagements  for  the  day  were 
imperative.  I  know  not  why,  but  I  dreaded  to  be  left  alone 
with  Theresa.  She,  however,  appeared  desirous  to  prevent 
the  time  from  becoming  irksome  to  me.  She  asked  me  no 
questions,  but  herself  started  topics  for  conversation. 

"  I  have  received  a  gift  this  morning,"  she  remarked ; 
"  something  you  would  be  curious  to  see ;  and  I  think  I  may 
show  it  to  you,  although  it  is  not  to  be  made  public.  It  is 
well  known  that  our  friend  Goethe  has  been  a  long  time  en- 
gaged upon  a  tragedy,  and  that  he  has  now  nearly  com- 
pleted it.  Last  night  he  added,  or  rather  inserted,  a  scene 
in  it,  and  he  was  kind  enough  to  give  me  a  transcript,  declar- 
ing that  it  was  half  mine." 

So  saying,  Theresa  produced  the  manuscript,  remarking :  "  I 
believed  you  would  be  interested  to  read  it,  and  here  it  is." 

The  thoughts  were  evidently  suggested  by  what  had  passed 
the  day  previous.  What  power  of  appropriation  has  that 
man  !  As  it  forms  a  part  of  the  same  subject,  I  insert  it  here; 
although  it  may  seem  a  departure  from  the  plan  I  have  thus 
far  pursued,  it  is  not  really  so.  I  copy  it  in  the  German.  A 
translation  would  spoil  its  beauty  : 

2Jiavgarete.    93erfpi:id)  miv  4?einridj! 

Sauft.  3L\}a8  id)  Faun! 

SDiarg  arete.    SJliut  fag',  wie  Ijaft  £>u'8  mit  ber  Religion? 

35u  bijt  eitt  fjcrjlid)  guter  Sftann, 

SUIeiu  id)  glaub',  Su  fcattji  nid>t  totel  babon. 
Srauft.    8afs  baS,  mein  Jtinb !  5>b  fiiblft,  id)  bin  T)tr  gut; 

giir  metn  £icben  liefj  id)  52eib  unb  §8lut, 

SBill  niemaiib  feiu  ©efiil)l  unb  feiue  Stivfy  rauben. 
2Hargarete.    5>a&  tjl  ndjt  redit,  man  mug  b'ran  glaubcn! 
Saujt.    2Jhi{S  man;1 
2Jiarg  arete.  9ldj!  menu  id)  etroaS  ouf  £id)  fijuute! 

2>u  ebvfl  aud)  uictt  bie  bciligen  Saframeute. 
ft  a  lift.    3di  ehre  fie. 


SAINT  LEGEIL 

SNargarcte.  £od)  o&iie  33eriaugen. 

3ur  SJJeffe,  jur  23eid)te  bifl  Tu  lange  nid)t  gcgangen. 

©laubft  Tu  an  ©ott? 
tjaufl.  3Jceitt  2iebd)eu,  roer  barf  fageu, 

3d>  fllaub'  an  ©ott? 

SBagft  ^rieftcr  obcr  SBeife  fiagen, 

Unb  ifftt  Slntwort  fdietut  mir  @vott 

Ueber  ben  Stager  ju  ferm. 
3ttargarete.    So  glaubft  Tut  uid)t? 
Sauft.    SKijj&Sr  mid)  utd)t,  Tu  fjolbeS  9lngeftd)tt 

2Ber  barf  tfm  nennen? 

Unb  roer  befennen: 

3d)  glaub'  i()u. 

iii-cr  entpfinbett? 

Unb  fid;  uuternnnben 

3u  fagen:   3d)  glaub'  itm  md)t. 

Ser  Mumfaffer, 

T>er  9XUcrt)a«ec, 

gajjt  unb  erbalt  er  uicfct 

Tid),  mid),  fid)  fclbft? 

2B6lbt  fid)  ber  J^tmrnei  nid)t  babroben? 

Siegt  bie  (Srte  uid)t  Ijierunten  feft? 

Unb  fteigen  freunblid)  blitfeub 

(Sroige  (Sterne  nid)t  fjerauf? 

<5cb.au  id)  nid)t  2Iug'  in  Sluge  Ttr, 

Unb  brangt  nid)t  9IUe6 

9iad)  .jpaupt  unb  ^erjeu  Sir, 

Unb  roebt  in  croigem  ®ef»etmuip 

Unftcfetbar  ftdjtbar  neben  T>ir  ? 

©rfiill'  baoon  Tein  ^crj,  fo  grog  eS  ift, 

Unb  wenu  Tu  ganj  in  bent  ©efitbjc  felig  btjl, 

9ienn'  e8  banu,  roie  Tu  roiltft, 

Venn's  ©liicf !  £cr$ !  ?iebe !  ©ott! 

3d)  f)abe  feinen  Stamen 

Taftir!   ©efiiljl  ift  2lllc3; 

Jlatur  ift  ©cbaU  unb  9?aurf), 

Uinncbelnb  ^immelSglut. 
gjiargarete.    Ta8  ift  alleS  red)t  fdjott  unb  gut; 

Ungefafyr  fagt  ba8  ber  5pfarrer  aud), 

9}ur  mit  eiu  SBiSeben  anbern  SBorten. 
3  a  u  ft.    es  fagcn'8  alter  Drten 

SUIe  .§er$en  untcr  bem  t)iininlifd)cn  Tage, 

3ebe«  in  feiuer  <2prad)e; 

SHJarttm  nid)t  in  ber  meinen? 
SKargarcte.    2Benn  man's  fo  Ijort,  modjt'S  leiblid)  fd)einen, 

cStctjt  abev  bod)  immev  fdjief  barunt; 

Tenn  bit  bait  fein  6f)riftentf)um. 
gauft.    Sicb'8ilinb! 


227 


228  SAINT  LEGEK- 

Here  was  the  dreaded  subject  back  again.  I  felt  that  1 
had  not  strength  to  grapple  with  it,  for  I  knew  how  futile  was 
the  contest.  I  determined  if  possible  to  give  my  mind  some 
repose  ;  at  least  for  a  few  days.  After  expressing  my  thanks, 
therefore,  for  the  perusal  of  the  manuscript,  I  asked  Theresa 
if  she  would  not  take  a  stroll  with  me  in  the  Rosenthal.  She 
assented,  and  thither  we  proceeded. 

Note. — The  Editor  of  Mr.  Saint  Leger's  memoirs  trusts  that  he  will  find  favor 
with  his  less  literate  readers,  by  appending  a  translation  of  the  preceding  extract, 
from  the  excellent  prose  version  of  "  Faust''  by  Mr.  Hayward. 

Margaret.    Promise  me,  Henry! 

Faust.    What  I  can. 

Margaret.  Now.  tell  me :  how  do  you  feel  as  to  religion?  You  are  a  dear, 
good  man,  but  I  believe  you  don't  think  much  of  it. 

Faust.  No  more  of  that,  nry  child  !  you  feel  I  love  you :  I  would  lay  down 
my  life  for  those  I  love,  nor  would  1  deprive  any  of  their  feeling  and  their  church. 

Margaret.     That  is  not  right ;  we  must  believe  in  it. 

Faust.    Must  we  ? 

Marga  ret.  Ah  !  if  I  had  any  influence  over  you !  Besides,  yon  do  not  honor 
the  holy  sacraments. 

Faust.     I  honor  them. 

Margaret.  But  without  desiring  them.  It  is  long  since  you  went  to  mass 
or  confession.     Do  you  believe  in  God  ? 

Faust.  My  love,  who  dares  say  "  I  believe  in  God  ?"  You  may  ask  priests 
and  philosophers,  and  their  answer  will  appear  but  a  mockery  of  the  questioner. 

Margaret.    You  don't  believe,  then  ? 

Faust.  Mistake  me  not,  thou  lovely  one!  Who  dare  name  him?  and  who 
avow:  "  I  believe  in  him?''  Who  feel — and  dare  to  say:  "  I  believe  in  him 
not  ?"'  The  Allembracer,  the  Allsustainer,  does  he  not  embrace  and  sustain 
thee,  me,  himself?  Does  not  the  heaven  arch  itself  there  above  ?  Lies  not  the 
earth  firm  here  below  ?  And  do  not  eternal  stars  rise,  kindly  twinkling,  on  high  ? 
Are  we  not  looking  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  is  not  all  thronging  to  thy  head 
an.!  heart,  and  weaving  in  eternal  mystery,  invisibly — visibly,  about  thee? 
Willi  it  fill  thy  heart,  big  as  it  is ;  and  when  thou  art  wholly  blest  in  the  feeling, 
then  call  it  what  thou  wilt !  Call  it  Bliss  !  —  Heart!  —  Love! — God!  I  have 
no  name  for  it !  Feeling  is  all  in  all.  Name  is  sound  and  smoke,  clouding 
heaven's  glow. 

Margaret.  That  is  all  very  fine  aud  good.  The  priest  says  nearly  the 
same,  only  with  somewhat  different  words. 

Faust.  All  hearts  in  all  places  under  the  blessed  light  of  day  say  it,  each  in 
its  own  language  ;  why  not  in  mine  ? 

Margaret.  Thnstaken.it  may  pass :  but,  for  all  that,  there  is  something 
wrong  about  it,  for  thou  hast  no  Christianity. 

Faust.    Dear  child! 

END    OF    BOOK    SECOND. 


B  0  OK  III. 


'At'  oiifiaroi  (lt\ti  iAiAoiktm, 
Jipijrovaa  8'  uj  iv  yf)a<[>aTs,  -Kpuacvviireiv 

^Eschtlus,  Agamem,  2*82 

The  trembling  lustre  of  her  dewy  eyes. 
Their  grief-impassioned  souls  controlling  ; 

That  ennobled,  modest  grace, 
Which  the  mimic  pencil  tries 

In  the  imaged  form  to  trace, 
The  breathing  picture  shows. 

Eii^Ofiai   <5'   dir'    ijxiii    ri 
'E\mSo;   ifAidi]  ireauv 
'Es   to    ft'i    Tt\ca(p6pov . 

Ibid.,  969. 

Return,  oh  faith,  thy  seat  resume, 
Dispel  this  melancholy  gloom, 
And  to  my  soul  thy  radiant  light  impart. 


BOOK    THIRD 


I. 

Theresa  Von  Hofrath  !  how  can  I  delineate  thy  charac- 
ter—  how  can  I  approach  thee,  sweet,  gentle,  heavenly- 
Theresa  !  A  sacred  awe  conies  over  me,  a  mysterious  re- 
luctance pervades  my  spirit,  as  I  bring  back  the  recollection 
of  the  days  passed  with  thee.  And  shall  I  again  summon 
those  fond  associations,  and  recall  those  happy  hours  1  Can 
I  bear  to  dwell  upon  them,  and  live  them  over  1  It  is 
an  agonizing  happiness  —  a  blissful  torture  ! 


II. 

I  am  calm,  nevertheless,  as  I  pencil  these  words — 
very  calm.  Why  should  I  not  be  calm  1  The  days  of  the 
years  of  my  life  are  numbered ;  but  the  allotment  is  universal, 
and  not  to  be  dreaded.  "  Birth"  and  "  Death"  are  words 
merely.  "  Change  and  change"  define  them.  Even  now  I 
see  the  world  recede ;  but  I  carry  myself  about  with  me 
wherever  I  am  transported.  Therefore  hath  Memory  her 
portion  in  my  immortality. 

Yes,  I  am  calm  when  I  speak  of  Theresa  Von  Hofrath. 
"Why  should  I  not  be  calm  1  In  her  gentle  conduct,  in  her 
quiet  life,  in  the  mild  dignity  of  her  nature,  in  her  child-v 
like    simplicity,    in    her   deep,    unwavering    faith,    what    is 


232 


SAINT  LEGER. 


there,  I  ask,  in  the  recollection  of  all  these,  to  make  my  heart 
beat  the  quicker,  or  cause  my  pulse  to  fluctuate  with  an  un- 
wonted trembling  ?     Yes,  I  am  calm  ;  very  calm  ! 


III. 

Theresa  Von  Hofrath,  under  God,  thou  didst  save  my 
soul !  Without  thee  I  had  been  lost.  Yes,  I  see  the  precipice 
over  which  I  was  hastening.  I  see  thy  hand  extended  to 
save.  Which,  which  shall  it  be?  A  plunge  —  a  struggle — 
death  ;  or  a  turning  aside  —  a  conflict — everlasting  life? 

Shall  I  see  thee  never  more,  Theresa  1  Shall  thy  deep, 
earnest,  soul-absorbing  eyes  never  again  meet  mine  1  never 
again !  Shall  heart  and  soul  never  again  beat  in  sympathy  with 
heart  and  soul,  never  again  revel  in  the  ecstatic  elysium  of  a 
new  communion  1 

I  will  not  believe  it,  although  a  god  should  declare  it  to 
me.  Sooner  will  I  believe  that  heart  and  soul  and  God  are 
nothing. 


IV. 

Be  still,  rebellious  tempter.  Dare  not  to  disturb  the  calm 
current  of  my  thoughts.  Down,  ye  mocking  suggestions. 
Away,  ye  dark,  thick,  brooding  fancies — hence,  all !  all ! 
At  any  rate,  your  time  is  not  yet.  The  mysterious  union 
of  body  and  spirit  still  is,  though  faintly  indeed  does  Vitality 
in  me  perform  her  office ;  but  the  wheel  is  not  yet  broken  : 
I  am  at  the  helm  still !  therefore,  Doubt,  thou  supple,  cow- 
ard slave  of  evil,  avaunt ! 

I  will  that  I  believe. 

1  do  believe  ! 


SAINT    LEGER  233 


Why  have  I  to  fight  this  battle  over  and  over  ?  Why  this 
never-ceasing,  never-ending  wrestling,  "  not  with  ftesh  and 
blood  only,  but  with  principalities,  with  powers,  with  the 
rulers  of  darkness  of  this  world,  with  the  spiritual  powers  of 
evil  in  the  heavens  'V 

Have,  then,  spirits  of  evil  this  power  to  assail  us  ?  Would 
that  I  were  convinced  of  it !  for  though  thronged  by  a  myriad 
of  fiends,  I  could  glory  in  the  contest ;  joyfully  could  strug- 
gle with  anything,  with  all  things,  out  of  myself;  but  to  find 
rny  enemy  within  my  gates  ;  to  cherish  in  my  bosom  the  viper 
that  stings  me  ;  to  be  forced  to  keep  it  there,  yet  keep  it  un- 
der—  ah,  that  is  the  fearful  fight! 

Ma^i]    in,   (pafiiv,   'dOavaro;  ioTiv   fi   roiavrrj,   xal   <pv\(iKrj;  OavftaarriS  Scofiivri ! 

The  world  beyond  is  the  world  of  reality ;  this,  the  woi-ld 
of  shadows  and  of  images.  Yet  to  take  leave  of  this  commo- 
dious frame-work ;  to  step  out  alone   and  unattended   upon 

thy  journey  to where  ?     Has  the  thought  no   terror  ? 

Does  it   not    bring  an    inner    shuddering  ?     No.     It   doth  ? 
NO! 

VI. 

Well,  what  was  I  to  do,  now  that  I  was  upon  German 
ground,  and  at  Leipsic  1  I  first  determined  to  know  what 
was  going  on  among  the  young  men.  Poor  wretch,  how  I 
stood,  beating  my  head  against  the  wall,  without  being  able  to 
burst  through  the  adamantine  gates  that  kept  me  a  prisoner  ! 
How  I  longed  to  break  the  shell  and  get  at  the  kernel — how 


234  SAINT  LEGER. 

I  struggled  to  come  into  the  light,  out  of  this  darkness !  I 
am  aware  that  a  class  of  persons  will  inquire  :  "  What  was 
the  matter  with  this  youth  ?  Had  he  not  kind  friends,  bright 
prospects,  health,  vigor,  and  sufficiency  of  wealth  1  What 
did  he  want  ?"  My  only  answer  to  such  is,  I  labor  but  for 
those  who  sympathize  in  my  narrative  ;  and  if  in  the  detail  of 
this  true  experience  I  come  in  the  slightest  degree  to  the  as- 
sistance of  kindred  minds,  struggling  in  similar  contest,  I  am 
content. 

I  was  eager  then  for  some  explanation  of  what  was;  I 
longed  to  know.  Had  the  alternative  been  placed  before  me, 
as  before  the  first  man,  "  In  the  day  thou  eatest  thereof  thou 
shalt  surely  die,"  I  should  have  incurred  the  penalty  without 
aid  of  the  tempter  serpent  or  the  woman.  My  previous  in- 
tercourse with  the  world  had  thrown  no  light  upon  the  mys- 
tery of  living.  I  had  thus  far  seen  everything  under  con- 
straint. Even  my  wild  excursion  to  St.  Kilda,  the  memory 
of  which  I  dearly  cherished,  did  not  help  me  in  the  difficult 
point.  Like  the  child  who  must  break  his  bauble  to  find  out 
how  it  is  put  together,  so  I  proceeded  to  break  in  pieces  the 
patchwork  which  makes  up  society  and  composes  what  is 
ordinarily  called  life. 

What  youth  has  not  experienced  a  chilling  sensation  when 
first  introduced,  after  leaving  home,  to  a  circle  of  acquaint- 
ances, whose  very  cheerfulness  depresses  him,  and  whose 
stirring  but  welcome  greeting  causes  his  heart  to  sink  low 
down  in  his  breast !  But  I  had  no  such  feelings.  So  great 
was  my  curiosity  to  make  acquaintance  with  things  as  they 
were,  without  the  restraint,  I  may  say,  of  God  or  man,  upon 
my  thoughts  and  actions,  that  this  was  the  absorbing  desire 
of  my  soul.  After  all,  considering  the  recluse  life  I  had  led, 
and  the  strong  passions  which  were  seeking  development 
within  me,  this  could  not  be  wondered  at. 


SAINT  LEGER. 


VII. 


233 


I  lived  with  Herr  Von  Hofrath.  I  had  a  quiet  apartment, 
with  a  pleasant  prospect  from  the  window,  and  the  large  an*3 
well-selected  library  of  the  professor  afforded  abundant  oc- 
cupation when  I  was  disposed  to  read.  He  himself  was  at  all 
times  a  cheerful  as  well  as  an  instructive  companion. 

The  first  feeling  that  I  enjoyed  was  a  sense  of  freedom. 
Not  the  slightest  restriction  was  put  on  me.  The  professor 
conversed  with  and  advised  me,  started  new  ideas,  awoke  in 
my  mind  new  trains  of  thought ;  but  he  did  not  attempt  to 
fetter  me  ;  he  laid  down  no  rules ;  insisted  upon  no  condi- 
tions ;  prescribed  no  limits.  He  proceeded  to  point  out  what 
course  I  should  adopt,  and  what  lecturers  it  was  wisest  to  fol- 
low. When  he  saw  he  had  made  a  suggestion  not  to  my 
taste,  he  forbore  to  press  it,  but  turned  to  something  else ; 
there  was  no  dictation,  no  air  of  superior  knowledge  or  intel- 
ligence. He  treated  me  as  a  fellow-laborer,  not  as  a  child ; 
and  while  he  gave  me,  with  the  most  unaffected  simplicity, 
the  benefit  of  his  experience,  he  would  always  congratulate 
me  that  I  was  young,  and  had  the  years  of  my  life  in  expecta- 
tion. The  importance  thus  given  to  living,  had  a  wholesome 
effect  upon  me,  for  I  beheld  in  the  professor  a  bright  exam- 
ple of  it. 

I  was  not  long  in  making  friends  with  a  good  number  of 
my  fellow  students.  My  several  acquirements,  purchased  by 
years  of  severe  study,  stood  me  in  good  part.  I  could  con- 
verse fluently  in  many  of  the  modern  languages,  and  thanks 
to  De  Lisle,  was  well  acquainted  with  ancient  literature.  At. 
that  time,  there  was  scarcely  an  Englishman  at  Leipsic.  This 
of  itself  enabled  me  to  make  acquaintances  readily,  for  being 


236  SAINT  LEGER. 

looked  upon  with  rather  an  inquisitive  eye,  the  young  men 
were  willing  enough  to  gratify  their  curiosity,  while  they 
could  at  the  same  time  show  civility  to  the  ohject  of  it. 

So  I  soon  came  to  feel  at  home,  wherever  I  was,  and  then 
I  went  to  work  at  my  old  lesson,  the  what  and  the  why. 
My  first  marvel  was  to  witness  the  strange  way  the  mad  fel- 
lows who  called  themselves  students,  lived.  The  apparent 
contradiction  in  their  actions  from  one  hour  to  another,  and 
the  singular  mixture  of  chaos  and  order  in  all  they  undertook, 
struck  me  as  inexplicable.  Young  men  who  were  engaged 
over  night  in  the  wildest  dissipation,  I  beheld  the  next  morn- 
ing seriously  engrossed  by  an  ethical  lecture  from  Von  Ho- 
frath,  or  engaged  upon  some  abstruse  subject,  requiring  the 
most  patient  and  attentive  consideration.  They  would  take 
full  notes  of  every  lecture,  and  afterward  rewrite  them  in 
order.  The  wildest  and  most  blasphemous  opinions  were 
freely  bandied  and  discussed,  and  even  when  considered  un- 
tenable, were  not  altogether  reprobated. 

Everything  seemed  in  a  formative  state.  Darkness  brood- 
ed, while  light  illumined.  The  good  and  the  evil,  the  sen- 
sual and  the  spiritual,  the  sacred  and  the  sinful,  were 
jumbled,  discussed,  pulled  in  pieces,  and  put  together.  Still 
nothing  came  of  it,  so  far  as  I  could  see.  Then  I  asked  my- 
self, What  are  they  doing  ]  —  to  what  end  are  they  living1?  — 
what  will  come  to  pass  out  of  this  ? 


VIII. 

Among  the  students  was  one  Friedrich  Kauffmann,  a  na- 
tive of  Breslau.  This  young  man  happened  to  meet  me 
immediately  after  my  arrival  in  Leipsic,  and  without  intro- 
duction on  either  side  we  became  acquainted  and  were  friends. 

His  appearance  first  attracted  me  toward  him.     He  was 


SAINT  LKGEIt. 


237 


about  twenty  years  old  :  his  stature  rather  below  the  ordi- 
nary height;  his  chest  and  shoulders  large  and  unwieldy; 
his  countenance,  though  thoroughly  German,  animated.  Light 
brown  hair,  inclined  somewhat  to  curl,  fell  negligently  over 
his  forehead,  the  only  beautiful  feature  he  possessed,  and  that 
was  indeed  beautiful.  Imagination  and  wit,  reflection  and  the 
power  of  analysis,  honesty  and  singleness  of  purpose,  were  all 
expressed  in  the  clear  outline.  His  face  was  ordinary ;  his 
eyes  blue — not  handsome,  but  expressive.  To  look  at  him, 
one  would  suppose  that  he  had  a  head,  or  rather  a  forehead, 
that  did  not  belong  to  him.  Not  that  his  other  features  were 
ugly  or  unexpressive,  but  because  that  was  so  perfect. 

This  Friedrich  Kauffmann  was  honest.  Before  Heaven  I 
believe  it.  He  was  an  enthusiast  without  being  a  hypocrite, 
or  self-deceived.  He  knew  always  what  he  was  doing,  but 
he  was  still  an  enthusiast.  I  could  trust  to  Kauffmann,  and  we 
learned  to  like  each  other.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  confided  in 
him  ;  my  bitter  disappointment  with  De  Lisle  had  taught  me 
a  lesson  ;  besides,  with  me  the  day  had  passed  for  all  that ;  but 
I  could  talk  and  compare  views,  and  reason,  with  my  new 
friend,  and  hear  him  in  return  with  real  satisfaction,  for  I 
knew  he  spoke  ingenuously. 

There  was  a  club  at  that  time  in  Leipsic,  called  "  The 
Free  Speakers."  It  embraced  but  twelve  members  in  all. 
They  met  almost  every  evening  at  an  appointed  rendezvous, 
and  uttered,  or  professed  to  utter,  what  was  in  their  minds. 
Their  motto  was, 

"Evil  unspoken  breeds  evil. 
Good  unspoken  is  barren." 

Friedrich  Kauffmann  was  the  originator  and  leading  spirit 
of  the  society.  We  had  not  been  long  together  before  he 
urged  me  to  join  it.     It  was  a  select  and  sacred  circle  of  true 


238  SAINT  LEGER. 

men,  lie  said,  and  he  could  in  no  way  show  his  friendship  for 
me  so  much  as  to  ask  me  to  make  one  in  it.  I  did  not  relish 
this  open  principle  of  the  club,  provided  indeed  one  was  real- 
ly honest  and  lived  up  to  it.  On  the  other  hand  my  curiosity 
prevented  me  from  altogether  declining  the  offer.  "  Tell  me 
first,"  said  I,  "  what  do  you  mean  by 

'■ '  Evil  unspoken  breeds  evil. 
Good  unspoken  is  barren  ?' 

I  had  supposed  that  half  the  victory  was  gained  over  our- 
selves when  we  confined  our  evil  thoughts  to  our  bosoms." 

"  Not  so,"  answered  Kauffmann  with  earnestness  :  "  Give 
your  evil  thoughts  so  much  as  a  place  to  harbor,  and  they  will 
spin  their  slimy  meshes  over  the  fine  framework  and  around 
the  delicate  tendrils  of  your  heart  and  lay  their  eggs  there, 
and  these  will  hatch  and  breed,  while  you,  their  miserable 
victim,  dare  not  let  them  out  for  lack  of  courage,  or  for  fear 
of  harm  they  will  do  to  others.  No ;  turn  out  the  unclean 
spirits,  and  if  you  choose,  pray  for  some  herd  of  swine,  that 
they  may  enter  into  them,  and  let  the  whole  brood  run  vio- 
lently down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea  and  be  choked." 

"  But  is  it  not  enough  that  I  drag  these  forward  into  my 
own  presence  and  there  pass  sentence  upon  them  1  Are  not 
others  made  worse  by  the  knowledge  that  I  have  within  me 
so  much  that  is  unworthy  ?" 

"  No,  Saint  Leger,  it  is  not  enough  ;  you  can  not  rid  your- 
self in  this  way.     What  says  your  Shakspere  : 

"  'May  one  be  pardoned,  and  retain  the  offence?' 

"  Summon  the  culprits  into  your  own  view.  Nay,  banish 
them,  as  you  try  to  persuade  yourself  you  have  done"  — 

"  Heaven  should  be  my  witness  to  that,"  interrupted  I. 

"  Ay,  Heaven  in  thy  mouth,  but  in  thy  heart  —  the  evil  still 
grows  and  bristles  and  swells ;  but  say  it  out,  with  the  honest 


SAINT  LEGER.  239 

purpose  of  riddance,  to  true  sympathizers,  to  manly  men. 
Yet  stay ;  let  me  explain  myself  more  calmly. 

"I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  have  evil  in  you.  "Whether 
much  or  little,  it  matters  not ;  how  it  came  there  it  matters 
not ;  when  it  came,  it  matters  not ;  that  is,  not  for  my  argu- 
ment. Now  your  moral  sense  (never  mind  about  a  definition 
for  that  either)  —  your  moral  sense  condemns  the  evil;  while 
your  baser  sense  tempts  you  to  the  practice.  I  do  not  advo- 
cate a  dissemination  of  your  evil  thoughts,  neither  do  I  advise 
an  indiscriminate  out-speaking  of  them,  to  whomever  you 
chance  to  meet ;  nor  a  mere  babbling  of  words,  without  thought 
or  reflection,  even  to  a  friend.  For  to  disseminate  evil,  be- 
cause it  is  in  you,  is  monstrous  ;  to  open  your  heart  to  the 
simple  or  the  scorner,  is  folly ;  to  utter  words  without  mean- 
ing, is  idiocy.  But  I  do  advise  to  the  selection  of  friends  who 
have  a  kindred  purpose;  who  shall  be  searchers  after  Truth, 
and  with  such  to  be  a  free  speaker.  Call  it  a  confessional,  if 
you  will ;  save  that  the  confessions  are  mutual,  which  of  itself 
alters  their  character.  Yet  believe  me,  the  effect  upon  the 
heart  is  ennobling.  The  good  we  utter  is,  by  that  act,  made 
permanent  within  us,  white  it  enriches  those  to  whom  we  im- 
part it.  The  evil  we  boldly  bring  to  light  and  expose,  by 
that  act,  perishes,  while  it  has  no  power  to  corrupt.  There- 
fore we  gather  strength,  instead  of  betraying  weakness,  when 
we  speak  out  to  friendly  minds  what  is  in  our  hearts." 

"  But  is  there  not  danger,"  said  T,  "  that  in  a  society  like 
yours,  there  will  grow  up  a  uurpose  of  display,  rather  than 
of  open  ingenuous  speech  ?  Would  it  not  be  well  to  select 
one  friend  for  such  an  object?  and,"  I  added,  for  the  sake  of 
provoking  further  discussion,  "  would  it  not  be  better  that 
that  one  should  be  of  the  softer  sex?" 

•'  Foolish  of  heart,"  exclaimed  Kauffrnann,  "  chat  can  not 
understand ;  or  else,  which  I  the  rather  judge,  oh,  perverse 


240  SAINT  LEGElt. 

of  mind !  that  will  not ;  be  it  known  that  in  the  intercourse  of 
two  minds  only  (which  is  your  first  suggestion)  there  is  in- 
duced a  moral  and  intellectual  covetousness  —  I  call  it  by 
that  name,  having  no  better  at  hand — since  what  is  uttered 
by  either,  whether  of  good  or  of  evil,  is  not  out-spoken,  but 
confided.  The  friends  get  to  be  confidants,  and  selfishness 
of  purpose  gradually  becomes  paramount  in  both.  The 
good  is  approved,  to  be  sure,  but  it  is  at  the  same  time 
hoarded  up  for  use  on  proper  occasions,  while,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  the  evil  is  served  much  the  same  way." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  what  say  you  to  my  second  suggestion, 
the  selection  of  one  of  the  other  sex  1" 

"  Are  you  jesting  with  me,  fellow-student  1" 

«  No." 

"  Do  you  seriously  ask  whether,  instead  of  healthful  inter- 
course with  manly  intellects,  it  is  not  better  to  select  for  the 
object  a  woman,  or  some  mawkish  love-sick  girl  1  Why,  a 
woman  will  make  for  you  a  very  holy  sentiment  out  of  a  wick- 
ed reality,  and  a  kind  of  divine  beatitude  out  of  a  wicked 
sentiment.  She  will  bid  you  cherish  your  sins,  so  long  as  they 
be  daring,  high-wrought,  and  have  a  smack  of  the  super- 
sensual  about  them  ;  so  long  as  you  will  lisp  your  confessions 
into  her  ear.  Nay,  say  to  a  woman  that  you  are  a  devil  in- 
carnate, and  she  will  beg  you  to  be  a  devil  still,  so  long  as  you 
are  a  very  valiant  devil,  and  belong  to  her.  Saint  Leger,  re- 
member what  I  tell  you ;  trust  in  .men.  Not  to  one,  in  con- 
fidence, but  open  your  heart  to  true  hearts.  Dare  to  seem 
what  you  are.  Resolve  to  be  what  you  seem.  Above  all  things 
deceive  not  yourself.  It  is  the  part  of  a  fiend  to  deceive  an- 
other; it  is  the  part  of  both  fiend  and  fool  to  practise  a  self- 
deception." 

As  Kauflmann  finished  speaking  his  eyes  flashed,  his  chest 
expanded,  and  his  whole  frame  appeared  agitated  by  the  in- 


SAINT  LEGER. 


241 


tensity  of  his  emotions.  I  took  no  notice  of  his  excitement, 
but  after  musing  a  moment,  replied  quietly : 

"  My  friend,  I  am  not  disposed  to  deny  anything  you  have 
said,  nor  yet  can  I  say  I  am  ready  to  give  entire  acquiescence 
thereto.  The  discussion  will  do  me  good.  I  am  ready  for  it, 
carry  it  where  you  will,  say  in  it  what  you  will.  '  What  man 
dare,  I  dare ;'  for  I  believe  the  maxim  of  one  of  your  poets, 
that  we  arrive  at  truth  through  extremes,  and  that  we  must 
first  exhaust  error,  and  often  madness,  before  we  can  reach 
the  bright  goal  of  peaceful  wisdom.     But  tell  me,  Kauffmann 

—  and  remember  that  I  want  truth  in  your  reply,  for  I  think 
I  have  discovered  in  you  one  foible  which  it  is  the  part  of 
friendship  to  point  out — tell  me,  have  you  not  had  some  se- 
rious love-passage  ere  now  ?  I  believe  you  have.  Your 
friend  could  not  be  brought  to  think  as  you  did.  You  felt ' 
that  she  was  bound  to  do  so.  You  became  angry  ;  you  acted 
foolishly;   you  lost  her." 

"You  have  hit  the  nail  upon  the  head,"  interrupted  the 
student,  with  a  forced  laugh  ;  "  not  another  blow ;  it  is  driven 
deep  enough." 

"Yet  let  the  circumstance  teach  you  a  lesson,"  I  continued; 
'•  if  we  really  seek  for  and  worship  the  Beautiful  and  the 
Good,  and  the  Just — TO  KAAON,  TO  ArAOON,  TO  AIKAION 

—  why  insist  upon  our  doing  this  in  one  beaten  way,  accord- 
ing to  one  prescribed  formula,  by  one  fixed  course  of  thought 
or  reasoning  ?  So  long  as  we  reach  the  goal,  why  wrangle 
with  each  other  about  the  different  routes  or  means  of  con- 
veyance 1  Is  not  the  harmony  of  souls  a  higher  point  to  at- 
tain than  the  unison  of  souls  ?  We  must  not  claim  that  olhers 
should  think  with  our  thoughts ;  it  is  much  happier  if  their 
thoughts  harmonize  with  ours.  Therefore  be  arbitrary  with 
no  one  except  yourself." 

"  No  more  now,"  replied  Kauffmann  ;  "  we  shall  do  each 
)C 


242  SAINT  LEGKK 

other  good.  Think  of  my  proposition  for  our  society.  I  will 
see  you  to-morrow.  Nay,  not  to-morrow,"  he  continued, 
thoughtfully;  "not  to-morrow, but  the  day  after.  Good-by!" 
We  separated,  and  I  walked  slowly  to  the  Rosenthal.  This 
was  my  first  serious  conversation  with  a  fellow-student,  and 
my  mind  by  the  exercise  acquired  a  more  healthful  tone. 
Others  beside  myself,  then,  were  tortured  by  doubts  and 
anxieties,  with  speculations  and  vague  surmises.  I  was  not 
in  the  wilderness  alone.  My  heart  beat  with  a  stronger  con- 
fidence ;  the  weight  upon  it  was  a  little  lightened. 


IX. 

Before  the  door  of  Herr  Von  Hofrath  I  met  Theresa. 
Although  we  were  living  in  the  same  house,  I  had  but  little 
opportunity  of  becoming  intimate  with  her  during  the  first 
days  of  my  sojourn,  in  consequence  of  the  many  things  which 
required  my  attention,  and  kept  me  nearly  all  the  time  in  the 
town.  Besides  the  girl  had  her  own  round  of  duties,  and  was 
not  always  visible  when  I  might  wish  to  see  her.  As  I  ap- 
proached the  threshold,  she  advanced  a  few  steps  to  meet  me. 
The  sight  of  her  gave  me  a  pleasure,  I  could  scarcely  account 
for,  and  dispelled  in  a  moment  the  effect  of  Kauffmann's  philip- 
pic. Was  it  not  strange  !  How,  on  a  sudden  does  the  young 
pulse  quicken  !  how  does  it  falter!  What  a  slight  thing  will 
disturb  its  equipoise  !  How  different  from  the  calm,  unruffled, 
measured  beat  of  the  experienced  heart,  which  only  seeks 
repose ! 

Theresa  advanced  to  meet  me.  "  I  hoped  you  would  have 
returned  early,"  she  said.  "  My  father  and  myself  weie  in- 
vited to  visit  a  friend  at  some  little  distance.  We  wished 
you  to  go,  for  you  would  have  met  many  scholars ;  it  is  now 
too  late." 


SAINT  LEGER.  243 

"  But  why  did  you  remain  ?" 

"  I  thought  the  empty  house  would  make  you  melancholy ; 
for  you  have  no  home-feeling  here." 

"I  love  to  be  alone,  and  to  feel  solitary  and  homeless," 
said  I,  abruptly.  I  do  not  know  what  put  the  words  into  my 
mouth,  or  why  I  spoke  as  I  did.  There  is  a  perversity  which 
besets  us  sometimes,  when  speaking  to  a  woman  whom  we 
regard ;  we  say  rude  things  when  our  feelings  are  gentle, 
and  cruel  things  when  our  hearts  are  tender.  Theresa  look- 
ed full  at  me,  in  her  placid,  earnest  manner,  and  asked : 
"  Why  ?" 

I  felt  convicted  of  a  falsehood.  I  stood  abashed  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  replied,  carelessly  enough  :  "  I  do  not  know." 

After  this,  neither  spoke  for  several  minutes.  The  pause 
was  becoming  awkward,  but  I  could  not  break  it.  Theresa 
asked  in  her  calm,  quiet  tone,  "Are  all  Englishmen  like  you?" 

"  If  they  are,  you  are  ready  to  pronounce  them  very  dis- 
agreeable." 

"  No,  but  I  feel  disappointed." 

"Why?" 

"  My  father  has  always  described  the  English  character  in 
a  way  that  made  me  pleased  with  it,  and " 

"  I  will  not  force  you  to  finish  the  sentence,"  said  I,  bitter- 
ly (what  right  had  I  to  feel  bitterly,  instead  of  the  young  girl 
whose  feelings  I  was  wounding  by  my  rudeness  1)  "  I  will 
finish  it  for  you.  You  are  sorry  that  the  specimen  you  be- 
hold in  me  should  not  agree  with  the  description." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Theresa,  without  appearing  to  hear  my 
remark,  "  it  was  of  your  father  that  my  father  used  to  speak ; 
and  I  thought  we  should  be  friends." 

"  For  my  own  sake  I  shall  regret  it  if  we  are  not,"  was  my 
cold  reply  ;  and  1  turned  and  entered  the  house,  leaving  her 
still  near  the  door. 


244  SAINT  LEGEK. 


The  twilight  approaches.  Now  it  deepens  into  the  gloam- 
ing. Still  the  young  girl  stands  where  I  left  her.  How  do  1 
know  ?  Have  I  not  stolen  to  my  window,  and,  looking  through 
the  casement,  watched  Theresa  with  an  indefinahle  uneasy 
apprehension  1  She  moves  not :  she  does  not  advance  :  she 
does  not  retreat :  she  does  not  turn :  she  does  not  seem  to 
stir. 

Of  what  is  she  thinking  ?  Beneath  that  imperturbable  pla- 
cidity has  that  young  creature  any  feeling  ?  If  she  has,  how 
could  she,  so  young,  obtain  the  mastery  over  herself?  Per- 
haps she  is  soulless ;  clear  and  pellucid  as  a  crystal ;  not 
heartless,  but  without  a  heart.  But  then  that  eye,  Theresa  ! 
Not  so  loud  !  she  will  hear  me.  How  strange  that  her  calm- 
ness should  have  such  power  upon  me  !  Did  she  look  re- 
proachfully 1  Of  what  am  I  talking  1  I  have  done  nothing.  Is 
it  singular,  when  the  evening  is  so  lovely,  that  a  maiden  should 
stand  a  few  moments  in  the  open  air  ?  Perhaps  she  expects 
a  friend.  It  is  so  —  I  have  it.  But  then  she  "hoped  we 
should  be  friends" — and  I  replied  that  "  I  should  regret  it  if 
we  were  not."  That  was  very  proper.  And  I  came  away, 
for  I  was  fatigued.  Yes,  I  am  fatigued.  See  !  she  turns  to 
come  in  ;  will  she  raise  her  eyes  to  my  window  1  If  she  does, 
I  will  speak  to  her.  I  will,  positively.  She  does  not.  She 
has  entered  the  house. 

XI. 

There  are  times  when,  as  if  awaking  from  oblivion,  the 
thoughts    and    associations   of  a  former    epoch    reappear— 


SAINT  LEGER.  24o 

strangely,  like  the  shadows  of  the  departed — and  awhile  ten- 
ant anew  the  soul ;  not,  indeed,  as  lawful  possessors,  but  as 
timid  visitants,  ready  to  start  at  the  first  alarm,  and  disappear 
as  suddenly  and  mysteriously  as  they  came  :  as  some  unfor- 
tunate, forced  from  his  early  home,  now  fallen  into  other 
hands,  steals  back,  after  a  season,  unobserved,  and  pensively 
wanders  over  the  abode  once  so  friendly,  but  which  can  no 
longer  afford  him  a  permanent  shelter. 

How  tangible  and  real  are  these  images.  At  the  moment 
I  commenced  this  page,  the  evening  with  Theresa  came  before 
me  with  so  startling  a  vividness,  that  I  involuntarily  referred 
to  it  as  something  now  occurring.  Here  was  the  window ; 
there  stood  Theresa ;  beyond,  across  those  meadows,  was  the 
town  ;  this  way,  the  pleasant  walk  toward  the  river.  Were  I 
a  painter,  I  had  not  let  the  scene  glide  from  me  ;  fading, 
fading — so!  I  am  no  longer  in  the  Rosenthal.  Theresa  is 
not  beneath  my  window.  But  I  am  in  the  house  of  my  fathers. 
This  is  the  room  in  which  I  most  delighted  when  a  boy.  I 
go  on  with  my  narrative,  but  must  draw  upon  memory  for  the 
detail. 


XII. 

I  hardly  know  why  it  was,  but  I  expected  when  I  went 
down  to  breakfast  the  next  morning  to  see  Theresa  exhibit 
some  constraint  of  manner  toward  me.  But  here  again  I  was 
disappointed.  She  received  me  with  the  same  gentleness,  the 
same  unaffected  quietness,  that  had  before  marked  her  de- 
meanor. For  myself,  I  was  piqued  because  she  did  not  ap- 
pear disturbed.  I  soon  grew  ashamed  of  so  ungenerous  a 
weakness,  and  reproached  myself  for  harboring  a  sentiment 
so  unworthy.  Then  I  questioned  myself  of  Theresa,  but  could 
summon  no  answer — none  whatever;  I  only  determined  to 


246 


SAINT  LEGER. 


seek  her  friendship,  and  ask  her  what  she  really  was  :  for  it 
seemed  as  if  I  could  never  make  the  discovery.  After  break- 
fast I  proposed  a  walk  to  her. 

"  I  am  hardly  at  liberty  so  early,"  she  replied ;  "but — yes, 
I  will  go  with  you." 

"  Neither  am  I  at  liberty,  but  I  wish  to  speak  with  you." 

"  Indeed  !  we  will  set  out  at  once." 

But  what  was  I  first  to  say,  after  so  formal  an  announce- 
ment? We  walked  on  a  few  steps,  when,  summoning  my 
resolution,  I  exclaimed  : 

"  Mademoiselle  Theresa,  I  was  rude  to  you  last  evening, 
and  I  wish  to  crave  pardon  for  it." 

"Your  manner  then  was  not  natural,"  said  Theresa,  with 
some  earnestness.     "  Explain  to  me  why  it  was  not  ?" 

Again  T  was  at  loss.  I  felt  all  the  conventionalism  of  my 
education  stripped  from  me  on  the  instant,  and  by  this  mere 
child.  I  had  acknowledged  my  rudeness,  and  she  had  asked, 
with  earnest  simplicity,  of  the  cause.  "  Why  loas  I  not  nat- 
ural V 

"What  a  question!  I  hesitated — commenced  an  answer — 
stopped,  and  said  :  "  I  can  not  reply  to  your  question  satisfac- 
torily to  myself,  certainly  not  to  you.  I  acknowledge  the 
fault ;  it  is  for  you  to  pardon  it." 

I  paused  again,  but  Theresa  said  nothing. 

"After  all,"  I  added,  playfully,  "  is  not  rudeness  natural 
sometimes  ?" 

"  Not  in  one  that  is  true-hearted.  How  can  it  be  ?  Not 
in  you,  I  am  sure,  else  you  would  not  speak  of  it  as  a  fault." 

"  But  are  not  faults  natural  to  poor  humanity  ]" 

"  The  idea  is  horrible,"  she  said  ;  "  God  made  man  upright. 
"When  he  goes  astray  into  sin,  he  does  violence  to  his  nature; 
he  may  be  led  away  to  a  retumless  distance,  still  it  is  an  un- 
natural aberration." 


SAINT  LEGER.  247 

"You  are  too  serious,  mademoiselle." 

"  Call  me  Theresa — I  like  it  better." 

"  You  are  too  serious,  Theresa.  I  wish  not  this  discussion 
with  you,  I  have  enough  of  it  daily  with  others.  Do  not  let 
us  contend  about  words.  I  want  a  companion  and  friend.  I 
said  yesterday  I  loved  to  feel  solitary  and  homeless.  It  is  not 
true.     I  do  not  love  to  feel  so." 

"Ah,  now  you  speak  naturally,"  said  Theresa,  in  her  na- 
tive tongue:  "  I  shall  not  be  disappointed — perhaps.  Only 
talk  with  me  in  French  no  longer ;  it  is  the  language  of  the 
hollow-hearted.     You  can  speak  our  honest  German." 

"  Not  so  well  as  you  the  French  ;  but  I  will  attempt  it,  if 
it  will  make  us  better  acquainted." 

"  We  shall  find  that  out  by-and-by  ;  but  first  will  you  tell 
me  why  you  came  here  to  Leipsic  V 

"  To  finish  an  education  which  at  times  I  am  sorry  was 
ever  begun." 

"  If  it  is  to  go  on  with  a  bad  business,  you  do  right  to  be 
sorry ;   if  to  perfect  a  good  one,  you  are  wrong." 

I  was  amazed  at  the  turn  our  discourse  was  taking. 
Had  the  professor's  young  daughter  assumed  to  be  my  men- 
tor 1  No,  not  so ;  she  exhibited  neither  the  tone  nor  the 
manner  of  a  teacher  or  adviser.  Her  voice  was  sweet, 
her  manner  gentle,  yet  both  so  self-possessed  that  I  was 
puzzled. 

I  felt  that  the  conventional  language  of  compliment  which 
is  always  used  by  our  sex  to  the  other,,  would  be  entirely  out 
of  place.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment  to  compare  Theresa 
with  every  other  woman  I  had  seen.  She  was  unlike  every 
other.  What  should  I  do  1  —  adapt  my  manner  to  hers  1  yield 
to  her  influence  ?  My  pride  of  opinion  was  discomposed. 
I  hesitated  to  yield.  Should  I  not  rather  cloak  myself  in  it, 
and  go  on  my  way  ?     Theresa  perceived  my  hesitation. 


248  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  Why  this  unrest  V  she  asked  ;  "  let  us  converse  no  more, 
if  you  are  disquieted." 

This  was  uttered  in  a  tone  so  soft,  yet  firm,  that  it  reached 
my  heart.  I  have  said  the  day  had  passed  for  my  confiding, 
but  I  should  have  made  one  exception.  I  could  ;onfide  in 
Theresa.  Heretofore  I  had  been  interested  in  the  sex  from 
a  desire  to  understand  them.  I  had  sought  their  confidence 
without  giving  my  own.  How  completely  were  the  tables 
turned  !  I  was  about  to  open  my  soul  to  her,  while  she  yet 
remained  to  me  a  mystery.  The  resolution  was  taken,  and 
kept. 

Very  briefly,  yet  pertinently,  I  went  over  my  life.  I  did 
so  abruptly  and  without  preface,  for  I  felt  annoyed  at  what  I 
was  doing.  It  seemed  foolish — weak — unphilosophical  — 
anything  but  characteristic.  But  I  was  committed.  Theresa 
had  the  whole.  I  laugh  sometimes  when  I  think  how  sud- 
denly I  gave  up  my  heart's  secret  thoughts  and  struggles  : 
gave  them  up  without  exchange ;  unconditionally ;  no  re- 
serve ;  no  keeping  back  at  all.  Yes,  she  had  the  whole. 
Why  do  the  tears  start  at  the  recollection  of  that  morning  ? 
I  wipe  them  away,  but  they  come  again. 


XIII. 

Theresa  listened  to  my  recital,  and  when  I  had  finished, 
said,  with  her  usual  gentleness,  "  It  is  better  to  speak,  when 
what  we  conceal  disturbs  us.  I  would  not  without  reflection 
say  what  I  think  of  your  history  ;  but  is  it  not  action  that  you 
most  require  ?  You  are  true  in  heart,  honest  in  purpose  ; 
will  not  a  practical  life  bring  you  to  what  you  were  V 

"And  must  I  go  back,  Theresa  ?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  would  be  happy.  Have  you  not  for- 
saken your  early  faith  V 


SAINT  LEGER.  249 

"Because  it  no  longer  sustained  me." 

"  Because  you  no  longer  trusted  !" 

"  Are  you  happy  1" 

"  I  am  ;  but  I  have  longings  which  may  not,  I  suppose,  be 
satisfied  here.  Let  us  say  no  more  now.  We  may  say  too 
much  at  first.  We  become  known  to  each  other  better  when 
we  speak  what  is  called  forth  by  a  more  familiar  intercourse." 

We  returned  to  the  house.  I  was  relieved.  I  felt  that  I 
was  a  better  being.  I  took  my  way  to  the  town  with  a 
stronger  confidence  in  myself  and  in  what  I  hoped  to  be.  I 
was  desirous  to  speak  with  Kauftmann,  but  it  lacked  a  day  of 
the  time  appointed  for  our  interview.  I  was  late  for  the  lec- 
ture, and  so  strolled  about  Leipsic. 


XIV. 

A  few  evenings  before,  I  had  been  introduced  to  a  young 
man  whose  daily  habits  and  manners  were  so  peculiar,  whose 
uttered  sentiments  were  so  startling,  that  he  received  from 
his  fellow-students  the  sobriquet  of  Mephistophiles.  His  real 
name  was  Wolfgang  Hegewisch.  There  had  been  a  dance 
on  the  evening  referred  to,  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town ;  not 
by  people  of  the  better  class,  certainly,  but  at  the  same  time 
not  of  an  objectionable  character.  A  great  many  students 
were  there,  many  of  whom  had  sweethearts  in  the  company. 
The  general  order  of  things  was  convivial,  and  the  most  com- 
plete hilarity  reigned  throughout.  Pursuing  my  habit  of  see- 
ing what  was  passing,  I  had  accompanied  an  acquaintance  to 
the  place.  I  went  as  a  mere  looker-on,  and  took  no  part  in 
the  amusements  of  the  evening. 

My  notice  was  presently  attracted  by  a  person  apparently 
about  five-and-twenty,  standing  in  one  corner  of  the  room. . 
He  was  tall,  swarthy,  or  rather  sallow,  with  a  high,  command- 


250  SAINT    LEGER. 

ing  forehead,  a  deep-sunken,  fixed  black  eye,  a  large  Roman 
nose,  small  mouth  and  thin  lips,  and  was  spare  in  person, 
though  well  enough  formed.  He  stood  with  folded  arms, 
watching  the  merry-makers.  There  was  something  revolting 
in  the  expression  of  his  countenance.  He  appeared  to  take 
a  fiendish  satisfaction  in  the  weaknesses  or  the  foibles  of  hu- 
manity ;  and  these  he  evidently  thought  were  exhibited  in  the 
scene  before  him.  As  I  had  declined  both  the  dance  and  the 
waltz,  my  companion  declared  in  a  jesting  way  that  he  would 
present  me  to  Mephistophiles — meaning  Hegewisch.  I  as- 
sented, and  we  were  introduced.  I  bowed  civilly,  and  re- 
ceived an  emphatic  nod  in  return.  I  forbore  to  start  a  con- 
versation, and  my  new  friend  showed  no  signs  of  doing  so. 
After  standing  near  him  a  few  minutes,  I  turned  away,  not  a 
word  having  been  said  on  either  side.  I  saw  nothing  further 
of  this  man  during  the  evening,  but  became  curious  to 
know  more  of  him.  No  one  could  give  any  satisfactory  in- 
formation in  reply  to  my  questions,  though  I  inquired  the 
next  morning  of  almost  every  one  I  knew. 

"  He  is  our  Mephistophiles,"  said  one.  "  He  is  the  devil 
himself,"  said  another.  "  Beware  of  him,"  cried  a  third.  At 
that  moment  the  gaunt  form  of  Hegewisch  glided  by,  and  as 
his  glittering  eye  passed  over  the  group  who  stood  canvassing 
his  character,  the  young  men  instinctively  shrank  from  it. 

"  Good  health  and  a  better  occupation  to  you,  gentlemen," 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  mocking  irony. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  so  V  said  young  Ludwig  Melcherson. 

"  Nonsense,"  chimed  in  a  new-comer.  "  Can  you  not  let  a 
man  rest  in  peace  1  What  has  become  of  our  honest  German 
liberalism  1  Because  Hegewisch  neither  carouses  with  you 
nor  plays  with  you  ;  because  he  will  neither  fence  nor  smoke ; 
because  he  refuses  wine,  and  beer,  and  spirits,  and  runs  not 
after  the  women  ;  because,  in   short,  he  never  does  anything 


SAINT  LEGER.  251 

that  you  can  complain  of,  he  must  be  a  devil !  Very  good 
reasoning,  among  such  precious  saints  as  you  !" 

"But  how  does  he  look?  —  what  does  he  say?  Answer 
me,  Karl,"  cried  Melcherson. 

"  How  would  you  look,  Herr  Ludwig,  if  everybody  pointed 
toward  you  and  called  you  fiend  ?  Come,  come,  fellow-stu- 
dents, let  us  have  no  more  of  this.  Am  I  not  right  ?  '  Give 
the  devil  his  due.'  Let  us  drink  to  a  better  appreciation  of 
Wolfgang  Hegewisch." 

The  company  gave  enthusiastic  assent,  and  dispersed  better 
satisfied  with  themselves  and  with  the  object  of  their  vitupera- 
tion. What  I  had  heard,  however,  only  increased  my  curi- 
osity to  know  the  man  ;  but  since,  I  had  not  met  him. 


XV. 

I  have  thus  gone  back  a  little,  to  explain  what  occurred  the 
morning  of  my  interview  with  Theresa,  after  I  came  into  the 
town.  I  said,  1  took  a  stroll  about  Leipsic ;  I  extended  my 
walk  to  a  remote  part  of  the  city.  As  I  crossed  a  narrow 
street,  I  heard  behind  me,  "  A  truant  so  soon,  Herr  Saint 
Le<jer  !"  I  turned  and  beheld  Hegewisch  in  the  doorway  of 
a  small  house  on  the  cross  street,  a  little  way  from  the  main 
avenue.  He  wore  a  long  dressing-gown,  buckled  around  his 
waist,  which  gave  to  his  figure  even  a  more  gaunt  appearance 
than  was  natural.     I  went  toward  him. 

'•My  friend  of  the  ball-room,  I  believe?" 

"  The  same,"  I  replied. 

"  I  have  long  wished  to  see  an  Englishman,  and  they  tell 
me  you  are  one." 

"  '  A  cat  may  look  on  a  king.'  You  have  liberty  to  survey 
me  for  any  reasonable  period." 

t*  T  see  you  are  disposed  to  be  accommodating;   that  has  its 


z52  SAINT  LEGER. 

corresponding  effect  upon  me.  Pray  walk  into  my  apart- 
ments ;  that  is,  if  you  are  willing  to  be  questioned." 

"  I  certainly  am  ;  for  I  calculate  upon  obtaining  more  than 
I  give." 

"  Ah,  I  have  heard  that  there  were  some  sensible  men 
among  the  English  ;  I  begin  to  think  it  true." 

"  And  I  have  heard  there  is  nothing  like  common  sense  in 
all  Germany,  and  I  begin  to  think  that  true." 

"  A  hit !  that  was  just  what  I  was  coming  to.  I  feared  you 
had  not  found  it  out.  But  pray  tell  me,  since  you  know  so 
much,  what  in  the  devil's  name  sent  you  here  V 

"  I  can't  answer  to  such  an  adjuration." 

"  Pshaw  !  'tis  only  a  habit  I  have,  when  pleased.  Don't  be 
afraid  ;  the  devil  won't  harm  good  children.  So,  why  do  you 
come  to  Germany  ?" 

"  To  make  the  acquaintance  of  such  rare  fellows  as  your- 
self." 

"  Good  ;  come  in,  then."  And  I  went  into  tho  apartments 
of  Wolfgang  Hegewisch. 

"  Here  I  eat,  there  I  sleep,"  said  the  student,  pointing  first 
to  one  room  and  then  to  the  other.  The  sleeping-room,  ad- 
joining the  one  we  first  entered,  was  narrow,  and  contained  a 
small  iron  bedstead,  a  straw  bed,  some  quilts,  but  no  pillows; 
not  a  chair,  nor  table,  nor  mirror;  nothing  but  the  little  bed- 
stead, and  the  straw  bed,  and  the  patched  quilts.  The  other 
apartment  was  better  apparelled;  there  were  chairs,  and  a 
table,  and  an  old  secretary,  on  one  side ;  a  large  shelf  of  books 
on  the  other  ;  a  laboratory  filled  with  chemical  apparatus  oc- 
cupied the  third,  and  along  the  fourth,  where  the  windows  did 
not  prevent,  were  hung  up  odds  and  ends  of  almost  everything ; 
stuffed  birds,  a  death's  head  and  marrow-bones,  crossed  as  in 
the  old  pictures ;  a  dried  snake  or  so,  a  young  crocodile,  and 
a  brace  of  lizards ;  an  old  sun,  two  or  three  antique  helmets 


SAINT  LEGEK.  253 

and  head-pieces ;  in  short,  it  seemed  as  if  the  ingenuity  of  the 
occupant  had  been  racked  to  assemble  the  most  incongruous 
mass  of  revolting  objects. 

"  Here  I  eat,  there  I  sleep,"  repeated  "Wolfgang  Hegewisch. 

"  If  I  had  the  selection,  I  should  invert  the  proposition,  and 
say,  There  I  eat,  here  I  sleep ;  but  every  one  to  his  taste," 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  liberal.  I  will  prove  to  you  by-and- 
by  that  I  am  right  in  the  disposition  of  these  rooms.  In  the 
meantime,  it  is  the  dinner-hour  for  honest  men.  You  will 
stay?" 

I  nodded  assent. 

"Katrine,  Katrine,"  shouted  the  student — a  stout  serving- 
girl  entered  —  "Dinner." 

No  cloth  was  spread,  but  a  coarse  dinner  of  the  most  ordi- 
nary description  was  served,  without  wine  of  any  kind,  of 
even  beer0  There  was  but  one  course,  and  it  was  passed 
through  rapidly,  and  in  silence. 

"  You  don't  smoke  V  said  Hegewisch. 

"  No." 

"Nor  drink?" 

"  When  there  is  nothing  to  drink,  no." 

"  And  you  have  no  vices  ?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Bah  !  you  are  joking." 

"  At  least  I  have  none  to  speak  of,"  said  I. 

"  Nay,  answer,"  said  the  student,  in  a  louder  tone,  "  have 
you  no  vice1?  —  do  not  your  senses,  on  some  single  point,  in 
some  slight,  unmentionable  matter,  enslave  your  spirit  ?  An- 
swer me  there." 

I  began  to  think  I  was  conversing  with  a  madman ;  but  put 
on  a  look  of  composure,  and  said,  calmly,  "  I  answer — no." 

"  Then  why — this  time  I  say  in  Heaven's  name — young" 
man,  are  you  here  ?     Is  it  to  lose  all  that  you  have  that  may 


254  SAINT  LEGER. 

be  called  virtue  —  which,  by  the  way,  is  mere  sound,  only 
sound  —  and  acquire  all  that  may  be  called  depravity  ?  That's 
not  sound ;  that  is  the  real,  genuine  base-metal." 

"  If  you  will  talk  less  like  a  madman  I  shall  be  happy  to 
converse  with  you." 

"  Don't  go ;  don't  go ;  excuse  me  ;  I  will  be  quite  sane ;  I 
am  not  at  all  dangerous.  Give  me  your  hand ;  'tis  pleasant 
once  in  a  while  to  come  across  such  an  innocent  fellow  as 
yourself.  I  wonder  what  will  become  of  you.  I  hope  —  yet 
'tis  folly  to  hope — but  I  do  hope  to  see  you  dead  and  de- 
cently interred  before  you  are  of  my  age — five-and-twenty." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  That  is  cool.  Because  I  like  you.  I  liked  you  the  day 
you  first  came  among  us.  I  liked  you  at  the  hob  and  nob 
down  yonder.  I  like  you  here  ;  I  don't  want  to  see  you  when 
the  fire  in  your  soul  has  been  extinguished." 

Hegewisch  uttered  these  last  woi'ds  in  a  tone  so  gentle,  that 
I  started,  almost  believing  some  one  else  had  spoken.  I 
looked  at  him  with  astonishment ;  his  eyes  had  lost  what  now 
seemed  their  unnatural  mocking  expression,  and  exhibited 
signs  of  the  deepest  melancholy. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you.  Let  us  have  some  explana- 
tion." 

"  To  a  certain  age,"  he  continued,  resuming  his  accustomed 
manner,  "  we  chase  the  hope-phantom  with  an  ardor  which 
one  would  think  inspired  by  some  divinity.  God  !  who  could 
imagine  that  the  hero-youth  should  turn  out  but  a  drivelling 
snob.  Look  at  him,  all  his  hopes,  his  expectations,  his  aspira- 
tions, his  swelling  ambition,  pride,  energy,  resolution !  all — 
all  turned  to — what  1  Perhaps  to  bestiality ;  to  gross  selfish- 
ness ;  or  possibly,  escaping  these,  to  teaching  the  ABCto 
some  little  copy  of  himself,  who  will  come  forward,  feel  a 
sentiment  and  a  hope,  and  in  his  turn  beget  children  and 


SAINT  LEGER.  255 

bring  them  up  to  perpetuate  the  race.  We  are  taught,  we 
learn  —  for  what?  to  teach  others:  and  they  others ;  and  so 
on,  ad  infinitum ;  faugh  !  'tis  a  sorry  affair.  But  what  can 
we  do  ;  'tis  useless  to  complain.  Have  we  not  passions  ?  do 
they  not  lead  or  drive  us  —  if  you  will  have  it  so — to  the 
devil  ?  Well,  can  we  resist  ?  Yes,  you  say.  Do  we  resist  ? 
No.  Why  not  ?  because  we  love  sin  ?  Nonsense  !  Because 
we  love  pleasure,  enjoyment,  instant  gratification. 

"  So  I  enjoy  what  comes  to  me  :  do  you  for  that  call  me  a 
wretch  ?  Granted.  Do  you  claim  to  be  virtuous  ?  Granted. 
But  what  makes  me  the  wretch  and  you  the  saint  ?  Circum- 
stances, physical  conformation,  position,  opportunity,  etc.,  etc., 
etc.  Therefore,  if  I  had  been  you,  I  should  have  been  you. 
If  I  were  you  I  should  be  you ;  nothing  else  can  be  made  of 
it.  Then  we  come  straight  to  the  question :  '  Who  maketh 
you  to  differ  V 

"  Perhaps  this  is  a  ground  you  do  not  wish  to  occupy. 
Now  it  is  just  the  ground,  were  I  a  saint,  that  I  would  plant 
myself  upon.  I  would  place  my  back  to  the  wall  and  fortify 
myself  with  :  '  Whom  He  did  predestinate  them  he  also  call- 
ed.' '  Who  shall  lay  anything  to  the  charge  of  God's  elect  ? 
It  is  God  that  justifieth.'  '  Shall  the  thing  formed  say  to  Him 
that  formed  it,  why  hast  thou  made  me  thus  ?  Hath  not  the 
potter  power  over  the  clay,  of  the  same  lump  to  make  one 
vessel  unto  honor  and  another  unto  dishonor  V  What  can  a 
poor  devil  like  me  reply  to  that  1  How  can  I  screen  myself? 
What  can  I  say,  except :  '  My  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes, 
and  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge.'  " 

Hegewisch  paused.  His  manner  was  bitter  and  defying ; 
he  seemed  determined  to  argue  himself  into  a  belief  of  what 
he  knew  was  false. 

I  took  up  the  subject.  "  You  complain  then,"  said  I,  "  that 
we  can  not  be  what  we  desire  to  be.     Is  that  it  ?" 


256  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  No.  I  complain  that  we  can  not  desire  to  be  what  we 
ought  to  desire  to  be ;  and  that  circumstances  beyond  our 
control  have  effected  this." 

"  And  therefore  you  are  not  to  suffer." 

"  Exactly." 

"  The  same  argument  would  clear  the  highwayman  an 
assassin." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  Then  you  would  object  to  punishment." 

"  As  punishment,  I  do,  but  not  as  a  preventive.  A  scamp 
picks  my  pocket.  I  would  have  him  shut  up  that  he  may 
pick  no  more  pockets." 

"  But  do  you  not  admit  any  connection  between  sin  and 
suffering  1 

"  I  do  not  admit  the  existence  of  what  you  term  sin.  Guilt 
there  may  be,  and  misery  there  is ;  but  sin  is  as  impossible  as 
holiness  ;  uncontrollable  circumstances  produce  both.  Every 
action  is  produced  by  a  motive ;  that  motive  is  powerful 
enough  to  produce  it,  or  it  would  not  produce  it ;  therefore 
there  is  no  sin." 

"  You  admit  that  sin  exists,  but  insist  that  none  commit  sin  ? 
VVliat  an  absurdity." 

"  I  admit  that  sin  (i.  e.,  the  principle  of  evil)  exists,  but 
that  it  can  be  imputed  to  none.  Neither  can  holiness,  accord- 
ing to  your  scripture.  Do  what  we  may,  we  are  but  unprofit- 
able servants." 

"  Well,  then,  I  meet  you  on  your  own  ground  :  your  argu- 
ment proves  too  much.  If  I  may  not  blame  the  wretch  who 
murders  his  neighbor,  although  murder  be  a  sin,  you  can  not 
impute  any  blame  for  his  punishment  here,  or  for  retribution 
hereafter.  If  he  cannot  sin,  the  avenger  can  not  sin.  So  you 
are  back  to  the  same  point,  after  a  fruitless  round  of  sophism. 
You  would  better  exclaim  with  the  Mussulman,  'What  is,  is  ; 


SAINT   LEGEK. 


267 


what  must  be,  must  be.'  You  say  the  sinner  ought  not  to  be 
punished,  but  he  is  punished  nevertheless;  and  as  sin  can  be 
imputed  to  none,  we  can  blame  none  for  his  punishment. 
Such  is  the  constitution  of  things  ;  and  it  is  a  necessary  con- 
stitution ;  and  if  necessary,  it  is  right.' 

"  Well  enough  reasoned.  But  nevertheless  I  will  quarrel 
with  it.  You  doom  the  offender.  But  tell  me  who — what 
placed  this  principle  of  evil  in  the  world  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  only  know  it  is  here,  and  that  we 
must  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  Must  not  some  Power,  infinitely  controlling,  have  done 
this?" 

"  I  do  not  know  :  I  admit,  that  I  can  not  understand  it.  It, 
transcends  our  reason.  Why  then  question  about  it  1  Tell 
me,"  continued  I,  "  why  does  fire  cause  agony  to  the  exposed 
flesh  ;  why  does  water  strangle  the  bold  swimmer  %  why  does 
the  swift  air  carry  pestilence,  or  the  hurricane  in  its  course 
devastation  ?  why  does  a  blow  injure  our  frame,  or  hunger 
weaken,  or  thirst  torture  it  ]  why  do  we  need  clothes  to  pro- 
tect from  heat  and  cold  %  why  are  we  weak  when  young  and 
decrepit  when  old  1  Answer  me  these,  and  I  will  tell  why 
misery  is  entailed  upon  sin,  and  why  sin  exists.  I  take  you 
on  your  ground,  and  on  your  ground  I  expose  your  sophism." 

"  Stop  there  !"  said  Hegewisch  ;  "  we  have  gone  far  enough. 
What  fools  are  we,  to  babble  in  this  way." 

"  Not  so,  if  we  get  at  the  truth  at  last." 

"Truth!"  interrupted  my  companion:  "truth!  So  you 
have  fallen  into  our  German  cant,  and  are  a  '  seeker  after 
truth  V  Why  don't  you  practise  truth1?  why  don't  you  live 
truth  1  Why  the  devil  do  you  go  about  eternally  seeking, 
with  your  mouth  full  of  our  mystical  jargon,  which  it  would, 
puzzle  a  fiend  to  understand  V 

"  You  are  right,  Herr  Hegewisch.  Let  us  commence 
forthwith."  17 


258  SAINT  LEGER. 

"Bah  !  I  am  not  in  that  catagory.  I  am  only  an  adviser ; 
the  practice  is  for  you.  I  am  irreclaimable.  Good-by  now, 
but  come  again  and  see  me." 

So  ended  my  first  interview  with  Wolfgang  Hegewisch. 


XVI. 

"  Why  had  I  come  to  Germany  1"  It  was  strange  enough 
that  Theresa  and  Wolfgang  Hegewisch  should  each  ask  me 
the  question ;  and  deprecate,  although  in  different  terms,  my 
present  course. 

What  was  that  to  Theresa  or  to  Hegewisch  1  Why  should 
either  presume  to  dictate  to  me  1  A  moment's  consideration 
put  at  rest  this  movement  of  weak  pride.  I  became  calm. 
I  determined  to  subject  myself  to  the  most  rigorous  discipline  ; 
what  friend  or  enemy,  sycophant  or  scoffer,  said,  should  be 
weighed  carefully,  and  the  result  passed  to  my  benefit.  Such, 
and  many  more  resolves  of  similar  import,  were  made,  while 
with  renewed  courage  I  girded  myself  for  the  trial.  But, 
words  —  words — how  they  troubled  me  !  how  I  tried  to  dis- 
encumber myself  of  the  schoolman's  terms,  and  to  translate 
them  into  language  that  could  be  apprehended.  At  first  I 
could  not  imagine  in  what  I  was  baffled ;  and  when  I  came 
to  discover  that  it  was  by  sounds  merely,  I  took  courage. 

XVII. 

Whatever  I  did,  wherever  I  went,  the  meager  anatomy 
of  Hegewisch  haunted  me.  In  the  lecture-room,  among  the 
students,  in  my  walks,  awake,  asleep,  or  in  revery  —  there 
were  those  glittering  black  eyes,  and  that  scornful  face,  and 
that  gaunt  figure.  Sometimes  the  countenance  would  present 
itself  in  the  softened  melancholy,  in  which  for  a  moment  I  be- 


SAINT  LEGER.  259 

held  it  when  in  his  apartment ;  and  then,  it  appeared  in  such 
mournful  depression  that  I  could  hardly  restrain  my  own 
emotion.  In  one  situation  only  was  I  free  from  the  illusion. 
In  the  society  of  Theresa  nothing  could  abstract  me  from  the 
influence  of  her  presence.  No  apparition  haunted  me  then. 
I  breathed  the  pure  atmosphere  which  surrounded  her,  and 
felt  that  a  new  life  was  beginning  within  me.  If  ever  lived 
upon  this  earth  a  sinless  being,  save  only  the  One  in  whom 
we  trust,  it  seems  to  me  that  Theresa  was  sinless.  So  it  was 
that  in  her  company  I  found  peace  of  mind  ever  after  the  day 
in  which  I  gave  her  my  confidence.  But  away  from  her,  and 
Hegewisch  appeared.     Why  was  I  so  beset  ? 

XVIII. 

I  expected  at  the  appointed  time  to  see  Kauffmann.  Strange 
to  say,  he  had  absented  himself  from  Leipsic,  and  had  not  been 
seen  since  the  day  we  had  our  last  conversation.  Hegewisch, 
I  often  encountered.  This  was  a  relief,  for  the  real  spectre 
drove  away  the  imaginary  one.  He  always  greeted  me  when- 
ever we  met;  sometimes  cordially,  sometimes  abruptly.  Once 
in  a  while  I  would  find  him  discoursing  to  a  group  of  students, 
seemingly  attentive  listeners,  who,  though  fascinated  by  his 
presence,  were  evidently  startled  and  almost  terror-stricken 
by  what  he  said.  On  such  occasions  I  invariably  joined  the 
company,  and  Hegewisch  would  as  invariably  bring  his 
harangue  to  sudden  conclusion,  and  leave  us.  In  this  way 
some  two  weeks  ran  on,  when,  all  at  once,  Hegewisch  disap- 
peared. I  felt  my  interest  still  more  excited  by  the  circum- 
stance ;  and  after  a  lapse  of  a  few  days,  being  unable  longer 
to  restrain  myself — for  his  shadow  haunted  me  more  than 
ever  —  I  determined  to  go  to  his  apartments  and  inquire  there. 
I  was  warranted  in  so  doing,  by  his  request  that  I  would  again 


^GO 


8AINT  LEGER. 


see  him.  I  proceeded  to  his  rooms.  I  found  him  within. 
He  was  seated  in  a  chair  at  his  old  secretary,  reading  a  manu- 
script. He  stai-ted  suddenly  upon  my  entrance,  thrust  the 
writing  hastily  into  a  drawer,  and  without  rising,  exclaimed  : 
"You  are  welcome.     I  am  glad  you  have  come." 

I  looked  at  him  attentively,  and  was  struck  with  the  change. 
His  eyes  were  more  sunken,  his  face  more  sallow,  his  cheek 
more  emaciated. 

"  You  have  been  ill ;  you  are  ill,"  I  said,  almost  abruptly. 

"  I  have  been  —  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Why  did  you  not  send  for  me  ?"  I  inquired,  for  something 
told  me  that  my  sympathy  would  scarcely  be  repulsed. 

"  You  have  come  in  good  time,"  replied  Hegewisch.  "  Soon- 
er I  could  not  have  seen  you.     I  am  better." 

"  Indeed.     Have  you  been  so  ill  ?" 

"Yes;  and  how  this  cowardly  frame  of  ours  shrinks  and 
trembles  and  grows  puny,  under  the  attack  of  the  Destroyer. 
Death  I  would  meet  and  not  tremble,  but  it  is  his  advance- 
guard,  with  its  Parthian  warfare,  cutting  one  off  by  piece- 
meal, that  disturbs  me." 

"And  is  that  all  that  disturbs  you,  Wolfgang  Hegewisch  V 
I  demanded,  in  a  tone  which  gave  evidence  that  I  felt  deeply 
for  him. 

"  I  am  no  longer  disturbed  by  anything.  Mind,  and  body, 
a  wreck  —  a  ruin." 

"Say  not  so,"  I  cried;  "  say  not  so  !  Only  rouse  your- 
self; invoke  the  slumbering  faculties  of  your  being,  make 
Memory  do  her  part,  Hope  her  part,  Faith  her  part,  Pa- 
tience her  part,  and  you  are  saved." 

"  Memory !"  muttered  the  student ;  "  Great  Father,  does  he 
speak  of  memory — does  he  commend  me  to  the  poison " 

"  Not  without  the  antidote." 

"  Saint  Leger,"  said  Hegewisch,  recovering  himself  at  the 


SAINT  LEGER.  261 

sound  of  my  voice,  and  rising  with  dignity  from  his  seat  to 
approach  me ;  "  Saint  Leger,  do  not  attempt  to  comfort  me. 
My  spirit  is  tossed  upon  a  stormy  sea,  where  tempests  rage 
continually,  and  there  is  no  hope  of  a  calmer  season,  but  rather 
apprehension  of  a  deeper  and  more  terrible  gloom  !  Do  not 
think  to  comfort  me." 

"  I  will ;  I  came  for  that  purpose  ;  you  shall  be  comfort- 
ed!" I  exclaimed,  repressing  with  difficulty  the  emotions 
which  filled  my  bosom. 

The  eyes  of  Hegewisch  grew  moist,  but  he  struggled  to 
prevent  any  evidence  of  feeling.  It  would  not  do.  In  spite 
of  every  effort  a  large  tear  formed  in  each  of  those  strange 
eyes,  and  overflowed  the  lids  and  rolled  down. 

"Weak,  weak,  weak!"  whispered  he,  wiping  away  the 
drops.  "  Let  the  hour  hasten  ;  let  death  come  before  I  am 
quite  imbecile." 

"  Will  you  not  be  calm  and  hear  me  ?  Will  you  not  say 
what  distresses  you?     Speak  to  your  friend?" 

"  It  is  written  here,"  said  Hegewisch,  laying  his  hand  upon 
his  heart.     "  It  is  written  here,  with  a  pen  of  iron." 

"What  is  written?  Why  speak  in  riddles?  Why  not 
heed  my  request  ?" 

"Listen  to  me,  then,"  said  the  student.  "Perhaps  it  will 
relieve  me   to   probe   the  wound.     You  are  the  first  human 

being  that  my  heart  has  warmed  toward,  since  —  since it 

became  stone.  Will  you  hearken  ?  Do  you  care  to  hear 
the  story  of  one  who  has  cursed  the  day  in  which  he  was 
born  ?" 

I  expressed  an  eager  assent,  and  without  further  hesita- 
tion the  student,  after  drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  mine,  com- 
menced. 


2G2  SAINT  LEGER 


XIX. 

THE     STORY    OF     WOLFGANG     HEGEWISCH. 

I  was  born  on  the  Rhine ;  it  is  of  no  consequence  to  men- 
tion the  place  ;  the  events  I  narrate  are  of  too  recent  occur- 
rence to  give  them  their    locality.      I  am   the  elder  of  two 

brothers.     My  father  was  the  Baron .     I  no  longer  use 

the  name  or  title,  but  have  taken  instead  my  second  name, 
Hegewisch,  which  was  that  of  my  maternal  ancestor. 

My  childhood  and  youth  were  very  joyous.  My  disposition 
was  trustful  and  sanguine ;  my  nature  open  and  confiding, 
and  my  temper  not  unamiable. 

No  two  were  ever  more  unlike  than  my  brother  and  my- 
self. He  was  cunning  and  stealthy  ;  shrewd  and  vindictive  ; 
full  of  malice  and  of  treachery.  In  our  childhood  even,  he 
envied  me  the  privileges  of  the  first-born,  and  as  we  grew 
older  his  envy  merged  into  a  subtle  and  revengeful  hate, 
which  became  more  and  more  dangerous,  as  it  was  manifested 
the  less  openly.  All  this,  however,  but  little  affected  my  hap- 
piness. My  heart  overflowed  with  benevolence  toward  all ; 
and  I  regarded  the  conduct  of  my  brother  only  as  childish  ill- 
humor  or  youthful  caprice.  I  did  not  know  his  real  charac- 
ter, or  the  depth  of  depravity  it  had  already  reached. 

I  was  the  favorite  of  both  my  father  and  my  mother.  My 
brother  gave  them  continual  uneasiness,  by  the  early  mani- 
festation of  many  unhappy  traits  of  character. 

My  days  ran  pleasantly.  I  had  a  fondness  for  manly  exer- 
cises and  for  books.  My  education  was  attended  to  with  care, 
and  it  was  so  admirably  planned  that  I  can  not  look  back  upon 
a  single  day  of  study  with  unpleasant  reminiscences. 


SAINT  LEGER.  263 

How  could  I  fail  of  being  happy  1  My  brother  as  we 
grew  up  took  more  pains  to  conceal  his  feelings.  He  prac- 
tised a  ready  dissimulation  and  affected  a  strong  regard  for 
me.  Thus  were  confirmed  my  most  favorable  impressions  of 
his  conduct,  and  we  advanced  pleasantly  enough  together. 
Only  I  could  not  love  him.  I  had  never  thoughtfully  reflected 
upon  his  nature.  I  had  never  seriously  condemned  him,  yet 
I  shrunk  from  his  society.  My  greatest  error  was  a  neglect 
of  my  reflective  powers.  There  was  much  to  excuse  this  ; 
and  I  have  been  fearfully  rewarded  for  this  sin  of  omission  ; 
but  the  future  was  all  so  bright,  the  present  all  so  happy,  that 
it  will  not  appear  strange  that  I  took  everything  upon  trust 
and  allowed  nothing  to  detract,  from  the  felicity  in  which  I 
moved,  and  which  I  saw  before  me.  Yet  I  was  not  negligent 
of  study.  On  the  contrary,  I  delighted'  in  learning.  I  even 
applied  myself  severely,  and  in  doing  so  was  happy. 

But  I  did  not  reflect  practically,  nor  apply  the  lessons 
which  I  daily  gleaned  from  books  to  my  own  case.  Indeed, 
I  thought  not  of  myself.  To  be  sure,  I  loved  to  be  happy  ; 
but  it  was  an  impulsive  natural  desire  which  involved  no  sel- 
fishness. For  I  sought  always  to  make  those  near  me  happy, 
and  herein  found  my  greatest  pleasure.  Can  you  imagine  a 
more  desirable  state  of  being  1  Had  it  not  some  resemblance 
to  that  of  Eden  1 

Caspar — this  brother  of  mine  —  I  must  make  my  story 
brief — he,  the  while,  was  not  idle.  He  read  and  pondered; 
he  was  up  early  and  late,  not  with  the  zeal  cf  one  who  loved 
his  labor,  but  with  the  assiduousness  of  a  slave  under  his 
task-master.  The  more  he  learned,  the  kinder  was  his  bear- 
ing toward  every  one,  until  even  the  baron  and  my  mother 
began  to  hope  that  he  was  redeeming  his  good  name.  Still, 
while  his  manner  was  becoming  so  amiable,  his  eye  was  more 
full  of  craft  and  his  movements  more  stealthv. 


264  6AINT  LEGER. 

With  the  servants  and  retainers,  Caspar  could  gain  no  pop- 
ularity. In  spite  of  constant  and  persevering  endeavors  to 
win  their  favor,  he  was  regarded  with  unvarying  dislike.  For 
this,  Caspar  hated  me,  but  he  smothered  his  feelings,  and  af- 
fected to  look  up  to  me  with  the  consideration  which  belongs 
to  the  elder  brother. 

There  was  one  person  only  with  whom  he  appeared  to  have 
confidential  intercourse.  This  was  a  priest  named  Hegel, 
belonging  to  a  monastery  a  few  miles  distant.  He  was  not 
of  the  severe  and  self-denying  class  who  are  crafty  and  re- 
morseless from  principle,  and  fortify  themselves  in  deeds  of 
darkness  by  apt  quotations  of  scripture  ;  yet  reject  with  scorn 
the  claims  of  sensualism,  and  crush  with  iron  step  the  prompt- 
ings of  the  appetite.  This  Father  Hegel  knew  nothing  of 
privation  or  self-denial.  He  was  in  appearance  just  the  priest 
that  has  been  described  so  often,  fat  and  rubicund.  But 
here  the  common  analogy  ended.  He  seemed  good-natured, 
but  at  heart  was  arbitrary  and  cruel  :  too  indolent  to  be  am- 
bitious, he  contented  himself  with  being  a  tyrant  wherever 
he  could  tyrannize.  He  had  a  great  deal  of  low  cunning,  low 
malice,  low  vindictiveness.  He  ministered  to  his  passions 
whenever  he  could  do  so  with  safety,  and  when  he  could  not, 
he  turned  their  forces  in  some  other  direction. 

With  this  monk  Caspar  was  very  intimate.  He  brought 
him  often  to  his  room  in  the  castle,  and  many  and  long  were 
their  secret  conferences.  Their  intimacy  commenced  when 
Caspar  was  about  sixteen,  and  I,  therefore,  nearly  eighteen. 
The  baron  regarded  it  with  strong  distaste,  for  he  had  been 
educated  a  protestant,  and  his  good  sense  would  have  con 
demned  it  under  any  circumstances.  But  somehow,  the  more 
intimate  Caspar  and  Father  Hegel  became,  the  more  amiable 
was  Caspar.  The  monk  took  every  occasion  to  ingratiate 
himself  with  the  baron  and  my  mother,  and  sought  especially 


SAINT  LEGER. 


265 


to  propitiate  me.  His  words  were  full  of  charity.  He  spoke 
of  Caspar  as  one  whose  morbid  feelings  had  made  him  moody 
and  discontented.  He  admitted  that  he  had  taken  pains  to 
gain  my  brother's  confidence,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  influ- 
ence him  by  the  strong  force  of  Christian  precept  and  ex- 
ample, and  he  was  happy  to  find  that  his  labor  was  not  alto- 
gether in  vain.  Caspar  had  improved ;  his  feelings  were 
becoming  natural ;  he  regarded  his  former  unhappy  state  of 
mind  with  abhorrence ;  he  believed  he  was  no  longer  under 
the  influence  of  th,e  "  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  Air."  Not 
that  he  had  sought  to  proselyte  him  ;  no — he  only  wished  to 
withdraw  him  for  a  season  from  himself,  and  the  rest  he 
would  leave  to  the  "  Good  Shepherd  of  Souls." 

Such  was  the  tenor  of  Father  Hegel's  discourse  to  my 
mother,  to  the  baron,  and  to  me.  Who  could  help  being  in- 
fluenced  by  it  when  the  evidence  of  amendment  was  seen 
from  day  to  day  1  Caspar  grew  more  kind  and  amiable  ;  the 
monk  more  saint-like  and  devoted. 

I  say  not  that  my  father  was  satisfied.  Quite  the  contrary. 
For  he  was  a  man  of  ready  intellect,  who  had  seen  much  of 
the  world,  and  knew  what  faith  to  put  in  the  professions  of 
such  men  as  Father  Hegel ;  but  balancing  the  apparent  im- 
provement in  Caspar  against  the  danger  to  arise  from  the 
means  used,  he  doubtless  thought  it  best  not  to  interfere. 
My  mother  felt  greater  hope ;  and  for  myself,  I  was  pleased 
at  the  change,  although  I  could  not  overcome  the  instinctive 
repugnance  which  I  felt  when  my  brother,  in  apparent  kind- 
ness, put  his  arm  in  mine,  or  laid  his  hand,  with  seeming  af- 
fection, on  my  shoulder.  By  all  the  other  inmates  of  the 
castle  the  monk  was  held  in  detestation.  Notwithstanding  all 
his  efforts  to  gain  favor,  he  was  absolutely  hated.  There  is  a 
singular  straightforwardness  in  the  capacities  of  many  of  the 
humbler  classes,  which,  like  the  peculiar  appreciation  of  chil- 


266  SAINT  LEGER. 

dren,  recognises  at  once  the  pretender  and  the  hypocrite.  It 
was  so  here ;  and  Caspar  and  the  monk  found  themselves 
foiled  where  they  had  doubtless  expected  the  least  opposition. 
Hegewisch  paused.  He  remained  silent  several  minutes. 
At  last  he  said  :  "  Why  do  I  hesitate  1  Why  linger  on  the 
threshold]  Why  dread  to  approach  the  subject'?  Do  my 
thoughts  ever  wander  from  it  1  My  right  hand  has  forgot 
her  cunning,  but  I  shall  forget  this — never  " 


XX. 

The  student  resumed.  "  I  have  been  reading,"  he  said,  in 
a  quiet  tone,  seemingly  unconscious  that  he  was  wandering 
from  his  subject,  "  I  have  been  reading  a  few  passages  of 
Claudian,  and  these  lines  strike  me  with  more  force  this  morn- 
ing than  ever  before.  They  state  pertinently  the  matter  which 
disturbs  me  and  makes  me  a  denier."  Hegewisch  read  in  a 
low  but  collected  voice  : 

"  S-epe  mihi  dubiam  traxit  sententia  mentem, 
Curareut  Superi  terras,  an  rmllus  inesset 
Hector,  et  incerto  fluerent  mortalia  casu. 
Nam  cum  dispositi  quaesissim  foodera  mundi, 
Praescriptosque  mari  fines,  annisqne  meatus, 
Et  lucis  noctisque  vires  :  tunc  omnia  rebar 
Cousilio  firmati  Dei  — 
Sed  cum  res  hominum  tanta  caligine  volvi 
Aspicerem,  laetosque  diu  florere  nocentes, 
Vexarique  pios,  rursus  labefacta  cadebat 
Religio." 

He  closed  the  book  and  looked  at  me  inquiringly. 

"  The  Bible,"  I  said,  "  is  full  of  this  subject.  It  does  not 
slide  over  nor  evade  it.  We  read  in  direct  terms  of  the  ap- 
parent injustice  of  God's  management  of  the  affairs  of  men. 

"  '  The  wicked  in  his  pride  doth  persecute  the  poor.' 

"  '  For  the  wicked  boasteth  of  his  heart's  desire.' 


SAiNT  LEGER.  267 

u  *  There  is  a  just  man  that  perisheth  in  his  righteousness, 
and  there  is  a  wicked  man  that  prolongeth  his  life  in  his  wick- 
edness.' 

"  •  Wherefore  do  the  wicked  live,  become  old,  yea  are  mighty 
in  power  V 

"  Yet  how  distinctly  are  we  assured  of  the  great  and  final 
result.  How  surely  and  how  confidently  does  the  Bible  speak 
in  vindication  of  the  ways  of  God  to  man. 

"  '  Though  a  sinner  do  evil  a  hundred  times,  and  his  days 
be  prolonged,  yet  .surely  I  know  it  shall  be  well  with  them 
that  fear  God,  which  fear  before  him.' 

"  '  But  it  shall  not  be  well  with  the  wicked.' 

"  '  Thou  renderest  to  every  man  according  to  his  work.'  " 

"I  have  no  patience  with  the  subject,"  interrupted  Hege- 
wisch,  bitterly.     "  Nor  can  I " 

The  student  stopped  suddenly,  and  with  a  strong  effort  at 
self-control,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  hoarse  whisper,  while  a  per- 
ceptible shudder  passed  across  his  frame  :  "  I  have  blasphem- 
ed enough." 

"  You  have  forgotten  the  narrative,"  said  I,  gently,  without 
noticing  his  emotion.  "  Pray  finish  it  now,  before  I  leave 
you." 

"  The  narrative,"  repeated  Hegewisch,  clasping  his  hands 
across  his  forehead,  "The  narrative!  Ah,  yes,  I  recollect; 
but  where  was  1 1  Oh  !  I  remember  that  too.  Pardon  me 
if  I  have  detained  you  ;  but  those  lines  from  Claudian.  Yes, 
they  were  running  in  my  head." 

Thereupon  he  continued: 

A  few  leagues  from ,  and  still   farther  up  the  Rhine, 

stood  the  castle  of  the  ancient  lords  of  Richstein.  A  house  at 
that  time  famous  as  well  for  its  long  ancestry  as  for  the  wealth 
and  influence  which  were  centred  in  its  then  present  posses- 
sor.    This  personage  had  married  late  in  life,  and  was  blessed 


268  SAINT  LEGER. 

with  a  single  child,  a  daughter,  to  soothe  the  asperities  of  de- 
clining age.  The  lord  of  Richstein  and  ray  father  were  friends. 
And  it  was  understood  between  them  that  the  elder  son  of  the 
baron  should  wed  the  young  Meta  of  Richstein.  Both  were 
then  in  infancy.  The  little  Meta  being  nearly  three  years  my 
junior. 

Time  rolled  along :  the  children  saw  much  of  each  other, 
but  when  together  were  quite  too  young  to  form  any  serious 
intimacy.  Before  Meta  reached  her  tenth  year,  the  lord  of 
Richstein  was  summoned  to  his  last  rest.  And  in  the  year 
following,  the  same  tomb  closed  upon  his  wife.  Thus  was 
Meta  left;  at  a  tender  age,  an  orphan,  an  heiress,  and  the  sole 
representative  of  an  ancient  and  noble  house. 

The  death  of  the  lord  and  the  lady  of  Richstein  struck  me 
with  terror ;  but  the  impression  soon  wore  away,  and  when  I 
learned  that  Meta  was  to  be  removed  to  another  part  of  the 
country,  and  to  receive  her  education  under  the  direction  of 
her  aunt,  the  much  respected  and  beloved  patroness  of  the 
holy  abbey  of  Rennewart,  I  rejoiced  that  she  would  have  an 
adequate  protector,  without  thinking  how  prejudicial  the  re- 
moval might  be  to  my  own  prospects. 

In  short,  I  indulged  in  no  dreams  of  the  future  ;  I  cared  for 
none.  The  idea  of  marriage  had  never  seriously  entered  my 
head.  I  had  no  worldly  cunning,  nor  policy,  nor  shrewdness. 
I  was  satisfied  with  home  and  my  means  of  enjoyment,  and 
of  course  was  happy. 

I  do  not  remember  whether  I  bade  Meta  adieu  ;  probably 
I  did  not.  She  was  kept  in  deep  mourning,  and  was  shut  in 
the  castle  after  her  mother's  death  until  she  went  to  her  aunt. 
And  before  a  twelvemonth  passed,  new  scenes  and  associa- 
tions had  doubtless  led  us  quite  to  forget  each  other. 

Only  my  father  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  proposed  alliance. 
He  kept  up  a  formal  correspondence  with  the  lady  patroness, 


SAINT    LEGER.  269 

which  was  productive  of  a  letter  every  six  months,  in  which 
the  baron  inquired,  in  courtly  phrase,  after  the  condition  of 
the  holy  abbey,  the  welfare  of  the  lady  patroness,  and  the 
health  of  the  young  lady  of  Richstein.  Every  six  months 
answer  was  returned  in  like  parlance,  that  the  condition  of 
the  holy  abbey  of  Rennewart  (Laus  Deo)  was  satisfactory,  the 
welfare  of  the  lady  patroness  was  perfect,  and  the  health  of 
the  young  lady  of  Richstein  was  good.  Nothing  occurred  for 
years  to  disturb  the  uniform  current  of  events.  Meta  and 
myself  had  not  met  since  the  young  girl  left  Richstein.  Still 
our  betrothment  was  held  as  settled  by  both  the  lady  patroness 
and  my  father.  I  was  about  twenty.  To  this  period  I  have 
given  a  brief  outline  of  my  history,  and  of  that  of  my  brother, 
and  I  have  gone  back  only  to  make  my  story  intelligible. 

I  was  about  twenty.  One  morning,  as  I  was  engaged  in 
my  own  room,  collating  favorite  passages  from  iEschylus, 
some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  I  uttered  some  word  of  ad- 
mission, and  Caspar  entered.  He  came  close  to  me,  and  I 
observed,  for  the  first  time,  that  his  countenance  was  pale, 
and  that  he  had  the  appearance  of  extreme  dejection.  I  asked 
him  to  sit  down,  but  he  shook  his  head  despairingly.  I  in- 
quired what  troubled  him,  and  this  too  he  declined.  I  could 
do  no  more,  so  I  remained  silent  till  he  should  speak. 

"  My  brother,"  said  he  at  last,  in  a  low,  pathetic  tone,  "my 
dear  brother,  I  am  the  most  miserable  of  creatures  !" 

Astounded  at  such  an  announcement  from  one  usually  so 
calm  and  self-possessed,  I  was  for  the  moment  unable  to  re- 

"I  am,  believe  me — 1  am,  "Wolfgang,"  continued  Caspar; 
"  and  you  are  the  only  one  to  whom  I  can  go;  you — who 
will  prove  my  enemy  and  my  ruin !" 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven,"  I  exclaimed,  "  what  mean  you, 
Caspar,  and  why  do  you  speak  with  such  horrid  significance?" 


270  SAINT  LE3ER. 

"  'Tis  true  —  too  true!  Say — tell  me,  Wolfgang,  may  I 
reveal  the  secret  of  my  soul  to  you  ?" 

I  looked  him  anxiously  in  the  face,  but  said  nothing. 

"  1  must,  I  will  tell  it  to  you,  although  it  make  certain  my 
destruction.  Know  that  I  love  Meta  of  Richstein — your 
Meta  —  and  that  my  love  is  returned  —  that  she  loves  me!  1 
have  uttered  it ;  kill  me  if  you  will,  for  life  is  a  burden  to 
me  !  I  will  not  prove  a  traitor  to  my  brother ;  I  can  not  live 
without  her." 

"Is  that  all,  Caspar?  Does  your  distress  centre  in  thisj" 
said  I,  in  a  lively  tone.  "  If  so,  take  the  girl  and  wel- 
come ;  I  wish  you  joy  of  her.  Long  may  you  live  in  the 
old  castle  of  Richstein,  and  your  descendants  after  you. 
So  compose  yourself,  and  for  once  in  your  life  look  cheerful 
and  happy." 

He  stood  amazed.  "  Are  you  in  earnest,  brother  ?"  he 
cried,  "  or  are  you  sporting  with  my  feelings?" 

"In  earnest — certainly.  Come,  I  will  sign,  seal,  and  de- 
liver. Prepare  your  documents.  How  can  I  be  in  love  with 
a  girl  I  have  never  seen  since  she  was  a  child  ?" 

"  But  the  castle,"  interposed  Caspar,  timidly,  "  and  the  large 
tenures,  the  baronies,  and " 

"All,  everything  goes  with  the  bride,"  interrupted  I;  "so 
bay  no  more  about  it,  or  I  shall  begin  to  think  you  care  more 
for  them  than  for  your  lady-love." 

He  winced  a  little  under  this  remark,  but  took  no  notice 
of  it. 

"  Documents  in  writing,"  continued  he,  musingly,  "  are 
certainly  unnecessary,  when  there  is  as  yet  no  vested  right. 
Nay,  in  this  case  the  right  can  scarcely  be  called  inchoate,  or 
contingent  even ;  still,  "Wolfgang,  as  the  world  views  things 
so  strangely,  and  as  none  of  us  can  read  the  future,  may  I 
trouble  you,  since  you  kindly  offer  it,  to  say  something  in 


SAINT  LEGER. 


271 


writing  to  the  effect  that  you  relinquish  all  claim  to  the  hand 
of  Meta  V 

I  hesitated.  My  suggestion  had  been  made  playfully,  and 
here  was  a  serious  request  for  a  written  relinquishment.  I 
could  not  but  look  upon  Caspar  as  acting  with  his  accustomed 
selfishness,  and  all  my  former  antipathy  toward  him  revived. 
But  as  I  was  anxious  to  be  rid  of  him,  I  took  a  pen,  and  wrote, 
thus  : 

"  My  brother  Caspar,  having  become  attached  to  the  Lady 
Meta,  of  Richstein,  and  she  reciprocating  the  attachment,  I 
freely  resign  all  claim  to  the  hand  of  the  Lady  Meta  which  I 
may  have  in  consequence  of  any  betrothment  by  our  respec- 
tive parents." 

This  I  signed  and  handed  to  Caspar.  He  read  it,  changed 
color,  stammered,  and  looked  at  me  suspiciously. 

"  Is  it  not  satisfactory  ?"  said  I,  sharply. 

"  O  !  yes,"  he  said,  "  only  I  would  suggest  a  trifling  altera- 
tion, to  save  Meta  from  all  embarrassment." 

"  I  shall  make  no  alteration.  Take  the  paper,  or  not,  just 
as  you  choose.  As  I  have  said,  I  resign  the  whole  to  you. 
I  mean  what  I  say.  It  is  done  !"  Such  was  my  answer.  He 
ventured  no  more,  but  thanking  me  with  assumed  humility, 
hastened  from  the  room. 

The  longer  I  thought  of  this  occurrence  the  more  mysterious 
it  seemed.  I  did  not  doubt  a  moment  that  Caspar  was  in- 
fluenced by  ambitious  and  mercenary  motives,  but  I  wonder- 
ed how  he  could  have  managed  to  meet  with  Meta,  while  she 
was  at  such  a  distance,  and  bring  affairs  to  so  serious  an  issue. 
However,  I  soon  dismissed  the  matter  from  my  mind. 

After  this,  Caspar  was  away  from  us  much  of  the  time. 
Father  Hegel  came  rarely  to  visit  him,  and  it  seemed  that 
their  intercourse  was  becoming  less  intimate. 


272  SAINT  LEGER. 

Months  passed.  The  spring  was  gone,  and  summer  was 
setting  in.  I  had  prepared  for  several  pedestrian  excursions 
along  the  Rhine  and  into  the  regions  adjacent.  These  jour- 
neys were  made  quite  at  random,  pursuing  as  I  did  no  fixed 
plan  of  travel,  but  allowing  the  caprice  of  the  moment  to  lead 
me  this  way  or  that.  In  one  of  these  hap-hazard  excursions 
I  strayed  away  as  far  as  the  old  town  of  Rhineek.  Fatigued 
by  exercise,  I  stopped  at  the  first  inn  that  presented  itself, 
and  securing  with  difficulty  a  small  chamber,  immediately  re- 
tired. I  know  not  how  long  I  slept,  I  was  awakened  by  a 
whispering  near  me,  and  opening  my  eyes,  I  perceived  a 
stream  of  light  across  my  apartment,  which  came  from  a 
crevice  in  the  partition  against  which  my  bed  was  placed. 
The  sound  which  had  disturbed  me  was  continued  from  the 
other  room.  The  parties  were  seated  close  to  the  crevice, 
and  I  was  so  near  that  I  could  hear  them  distinctly. 

"  Are  you  sure  that  it  was  he  V 

"  Yes,  quite  sure." 

"  But  was  he  coming  here,  do  you  think  1" 

"  How  do  I  know  1  I  only  know  that  I  saw  him.  But  if 
he  was  coming  here,  he  has  no  idea  that  Meta  is  at  the  chateau. 
Besides,  I  have  told  you  over  and  over  again  that  "Wolfgang 
cares  not  for  the  girl." 

I  could  hear  Father  Hegel  in  a  low,  vulgar,  discordant 
laugh,  while  I  recognised  in  his  companion  my  brother  Caspar. 
"  The  young  cub  has  no  love  for  carnage  till  he  has  lapped 
blood ;  so  the  youth  knows  not  the  volcano  which  he  carries 
within  him  till  his  passions  are  roused.  Let  Wolfgang  meet 
me  girl  of  Richstein,  and  then  good-by  to  your  claim !" 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  What  Wolfgang  has  said  he  will 
abide  by." 

"  When  he  discovers  the  cheat  you  have  put  upon  him  V 

"  It  will  then  be  too  late." 


SAINT  LEGER.  273 

I  could  hear  nothing  further,  for  the  parties  changed  their 
position,  and  shortly  after  left  the  room. 

I  slept  no  more  that  night.  I  saw  that  a  plot  was  laid  to 
ensnare  an  innocent  girl,  and  that  I  had  been  made  to  play  a 
part  in  it.  New  light  dawned  upon  me.  I  felt  older  by 
years  than  when  I  laid  down.  I  could  now  appreciate  the 
shrewdness  of  Caspar,  and  understand  the  selfishness  of  his 
nature.     Everything  was  clear  to  me. 

There  it  was — the  change  from  youth  to  man;  the  new 
energy,  the  awakened  purpose,  the  first  practical  develop- 
ment ;  the  harnessing  in  to  the  train  that  sweeps  round  the 
earth,  laden  with  every  imaginable  object  of  hope,  and  every 
imaginable  desire  of  the  heart  ! 

I  rose  early.  I  expected  to  meet  and  confront  my  brother, 
and  was  prepared  to  do  it.  This  was  not  to  be,  however. 
He  and  his  companion  had  taken  their  departure  before  I  left 
my  chamber,  and  no  one  about  the  inn  coulc  tell  me  whither 
they  went.  My  next  thought  was  to  seek  for  Meta ;  but 
where  was  she  to  be  found  ?  Occupied  with  the  idea,  I  start- 
ed forth,  and  walked  on  mechanically  till  I  came  to  the  town- 
gate.  Producing  my  passport,  I  went  through,  and  contin- 
ued my  stroll  until  I  was  entirely  away  from  the  suburbs,  and 
surrounded  only  by  pleasant  green  fields,  through  which  were 
frequent  lanes  leading  to  the  river.  I  turned  down  one  of  these, 
which  led  me  presently  to  a  spacious  old  mansion,  situated  a 
little  distance  from  the  water,  and  surrounded  by  a  high  wall. 
The  entrance  was  protected  by  a  large  gate.  As  I  came  up, 
I  saw  a  little  boy  upon  the  outside  struggling  to  open  it.  He 
had  apparently  strayed  out  and  in  some  way  got  through  the 
gate,  but  was  unable  to  get  back.  Finding  his  struggles  of 
no  avail,  he  began  to  cry.  I  ran  forward,  and  opening  the 
gate,  took  him  in  my  arms  and  carried  him  inside.  At  the 
same  moment,  a  girl  came  bounding  down  the  path,  and  ran 
18 


274  SAINT  LEGER, 

to  the  spot  where  I  was  standing  with  the  boy.  I  never  yet 
forgot  a  countenance,  where  the  lineaments  had  become 
formed,  and  I  recognised  instantly  in  the  beautiful  and  bloom- 
ing creature  before  me  the  young  Meta  of  Richstein. 

With  remarkable  grace  and  self-possession,  yet  with  be- 
coming modesty,  she  thanked  me  for  the  trouble  I  had  taken 
with  her  little  charge,  who,  she  said,  was  placed  under  her 
care  for  a  few  minutes,  and  ran  off  unperceived,  alarming  her 
for  his  safety.  I  saw  that  I  was  not  known,  and  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  preserving  my  incognito.  Indeed,  I 
knew  not  what  to  say  or  how  to  announce  myself.  The  longer 
I  hesitated  the  more  difficult  it  seemed. 

It  was  a  strange  meeting  between  two  betrothed.  Destiny 
had  thrown  us  together  in  the  delightful  season  when  the  air 
was  balmy,  and  nature  smiling.  The  water  spirits  upon  the 
bosom  of  Father  Rhine  seemed  sporting,  and  nymphs  and 
fauns  and  fairies  to  be  revelling  in  the  fields  and  through  the 
bowers  and  around  the  wells  and  fountains  of  the  old  chateau. 

And  I  thought  of  my  renunciation,  and  wished  I  had  not 
written  and  signed  it ;  and  I  was  glad  that  I  had  framed  it 
so  cautiously,  and  wondered  what  would  be  the  end  of  the 
history  ;  and  revolving  all  these  things,  I  was  standing  still, 
gazing  upon  Meta,  but  taking  no  notice  of  what  she  said, 
nor  of  anything  else.  There  I  stood,  looking,  and  saying 
nothing. 

How  long  I  remained  in  this  way  I  do  not  know.  I  be- 
lieve Meta  spoke,  and  asked  if  I  was  ill,  or  something  of  the 
sort,  but  I  am  not  positive.  When  I  recovered  from  my 
trance,  she  was  standing,  as  much  enrapted  as  I  had  been. 
Memory  was  summoned  to  its  office,  and  a  dim  reminiscence 
was  flitting  across  her  mind.  But  the  shadows  threw  no  cer- 
tain trace  across  the  vista  of  the  past ;  the  glimmering  dis- 
closed only  the  same  dim  reminiscence.  Meta  was  the  first 
to  speak. 


SAINT  LEGER. 


275 


f>  Excuse  me  :  You  come,  I  presume,  to  call  on  the  baron- 
ess ;  but  your  countenance  seems  so  familiar  that  I  must  ask 
if  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before  ?" 

"  I  have  been  often  in  Rhineck,  but  never  at  the  chateau." 

"  Nay,  it  can  not  have  been  in  the  town ;  but  your  counten- 
ance is  familiar.     You  are  some  friend  of  our  family?" 

"  Then  we  may  have  met  at  Rennewart?" 

"  At  Rennewart ;  no.     But  this  shows  that  you  know  me." 

"  Yes,  I  do  know  you,  Meta  of  Richstein,"  said  I,  slowly, 
and  sadly.     "  I  only  hope  that  you  may  not  remember  me." 

"  It  is  the  young  Baron  of ,"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly, 

with  a  look  first  of  terror  and  then  of  scorn.     "What  would 
he  here  1" 

The  air,  just  before  so  genial,  became  oppressive ;  nature 
turned  her  smiles  into  frowns.  The  water  spirits  ceased 
their  sports  and  plunged  down  to  their  caverns  in  the  bottom 
of  the  river,  and  the  nymphs  and  fauns  and  fairies  left  oft 
revelling  and  fled  noiselessly  away  into  the  dark  recesses  of 
the  woods. 

How  different  my  first  and  second  trance !  Her  voice 
brought  me  to  my  senses.  She  repeated  in  the  same  disdain 
ful  tone  her  question. 

"What  would  you  here'?" 

"  I  would  expose  a  base  and  premeditated  fraud  upon  my 
self  and  you.  I  would  prove  that  we  are  the  victims  of  ar. 
outrageous  plot.  I  would  clear  myself  from  aspersions  which 
I  believe  have  been  cast  upon  me,  and  explain  whatever  may 
seem  to  you  deserving  of  censure." 

"  Of  censure  !"  exclaimed  Meta,  scornfully.  "  So  it  is  but 
a  trifling  matter  for  censure  when  a  nobleman  of  an  ancient 
and  honorable  lineage  basely  insults  an  unprotected  maiden 
over  whose  destiny  he  has  control,  through  a  compact  of  their 
parents,  by  bartering"  away  his  claim  to  her  hand  as  he  would 


276  SAINT  LEGER. 

the  service  of  a  bondsman,  and  at  the  same  time  adding  in- 
dignity to  insult  by  mentioning  as  a  reason  for  it  his  preference 
for  another  !" 

"False,  false  —  all  false.  You  have  been  deceived;  and 
I  have  been  traduced." 

"  Spare  your  hypocritical  excuses,"  interrupted  Meta, 
drawing  a  paper  from  her  bosom  ;  "  read  that  and  begone  !" 

She  handed  me  the  paper.  It  was  the  same  that  I  had 
given  to  Caspar.  I  opened  it,  and  to  my  astonishment  read 
as  follows :  — 

"My brother  Caspar:  Having  become  attached  to  the  Lady 
Myra  of  Eberstein,  and  she  reciprocating  the  attachment,  I 
freely  resign  in  your  favor  all  claim  to  the  hand  of  the  Lady 
Meta,  which  I  may  have  in  consequence  of  any  betrothment 
by  our  respective  parents." 

A  feeling  of  transport  welled  up  within  me,  as  I  looked  on 
this  convincing  proof  of  my  brother's  treachery.  Not  the 
sudden  discovery  of  so  wretched  a  crime  in  him  could  restrain 
it.  I  remained  calm,  however,  and  after  reading  the  writing 
twice  over  to  mark  carefully  the  alterations,  I  handed  it  back. 

"  Well,"  said  Meta,  indignantly,  "  what  have  you  to  say  ?" 

"  That  the  writing  is  a  forgery." 

"  Do  you  deny  your  signature  ?" 

"  No  ;  but  if  you  will  listen  to  me  a  few  moments,  I  will 
prove  the  forgery  to  you." 

"  I  will  listen." 

My  explanation  was  short,  but  explicit.  I  detailed  with 
exactness  what  occurred  at  the  interview  between  Caspar  and 
myself,  so  that  Meta  could  understand  that  it  was  solely  on 
her  account  that  I  had  signed  anything.  I  described  Caspar's 
earnestness  and  apparent  sincerity.  I  narrated  all  he  had 
said  of  her  attachment  to  him,  and  the  wretchedness  which  the 
betrothment  with  me  was  causing  both. 


SAINT  LEGEK.  277 

I  then  came  to  the  paper  which  I  had  myself  written  and 
signed.  I  hade  Mcta  examine  it  carefully.  I  pointed  out 
distinctly  the  several  forgeries :  first,  where,  by  a  new 
punctuation  and  a  capital,  I  was  made  to  address  Caspar  in- 
stead of  naming  him  ;  second,  the  alteration  of  "  Meta"  to 
"  Myra  ;"  third,  the  change  of  "  Richstein"  to  "  Eberstein," 
and  fourth,  the  addition  at  the  end  of  a  line  where  a  space  was 
left,  of  "  in  your  favor."  The  alterations  were  made  with  ex- 
traordinary skill,  hut  were  nevertheless  apparent  to  a  practised 
eye. 

I  next  told  Meta  the  conversation  I  overheard  at  the  inn, 
and  the  resolution  I  took  of  seeking  her  out  and  vindicating 
myself,  though  at  the  expense  of  exposing  a  brother's  guilt. 

She  was  overwhelmed  by  my  disclosures.  We  had  re- 
mained standing  all  the  time,  she  listening  to  me  earnestly,, 
while  her  face  was  at  one  moment  completely  crimsoned  and 
the  next  deadly  pale.  As  I  pointed  to  the  alterations  in  the 
paper,  we  stood  still  closer  together,  she  holding  one  side  of 
it  and  I  the  other.  And  I  perceived  her  hands  tremble  and 
her  eyes  droop  and  her  lips  quiver  as  she  discovered  the  ir- 
resistible proofs  of  the  conspiracy.  How  my  heart  warmed 
toward  her  as  she  stood  agitated  by  conflicting  emotions  ; 
how  I  cursed  my  previous  indifference  ;  how  I  wondered  that 
I  could  have  so  long  abstained  from  seeing  and  knowing  the 
one  with  whom  my  destiny  had  been  linked  ;  how  was  I 
now  touched  by  her  extreme  loveliness,  her  dignity,  her 
grace,  her  modesty,  her  spirit,  her  pride,  and  lofty  bearing; 
how  on  a  sudden  did  every  perfection  of  womanhood  seem  to 
shine  in  her.  She  folded  the  paper,  handed  it  to  me,  and 
said  in  a  low  but  emphatic  tone  :  "  I  am  satisfied.  You  will 
accompany  me  to  the  chateau  that  I  may  introduce  you  to  the 
baroness." 

I  assented,  and  we  went  on  fnrrpil.or.  Meta  declining  with 


278  SAINT    LEGER. 

kindness  my  offer  of  assistance.  On  the  way  she  imbrmed 
me  that  the  baroness  was  her  cousin,  whose  husband  had  died 
some  years  since,  and  that  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
spending  some  portion  of  each  year  with  her. 

The  reaction  upon  the  discovery  of  injustice  done  to  an 
innocent  party  is  not  generally  of  a  pleasing  nature,  but  I  am 
sure  our  walk  to  the  chateau  was  a  happy  one. 

I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  although  we  scarcely  spoke  to 
each  other,  yet  insensibly  we  slackened  our  pace,  and  were 
moving  very  slowly  along  the  path.  Somehow  we  walked 
very  near  together,  although  Meta  had  declined  taking  my 
arm  —  and  I  began  to  think  that  I  was  her  protector,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  I  could  feel  down  in  the  depths  of  my  heart,  that 
her  spirit  was  receiving  support  from  mine  ;  and  then  all 
nature  was  gay  again,  the  undines  reappeared,  and  the  nymphs 
and  fauns  and  fairies  were  sporting  as  gayly  as  ever. 

Arrived  at  the  chateau,  I  was  ushered  in,  and  Meta  left  me, 
to  inform  her  cousin  of  my  coming.  More  than  an  hour 
elapsed  before  either  appeared.  After  that  Meta  and  the 
baroness  entered  together.  Meta  said  nothing,  but  the  baroness 
greeted  me  with  great  kindness.  It  was  evident  that  she  had 
heard  the  history  of  the  deceit  practised  upon  me.  After  a 
while  she  took  occasion  to  refer  to  it.  She  told  me  that 
Caspar  had  for  several  years  been  a  frequent  visiter  at  the 
chateau ;  that  he  had  introduced  to  the  lady  of  Rennewart 
and  to  herself  a  monk  for  whom  he  claimed  a  superior  sanctity 
and  holiness :  this  of  course  was  Father  Hegel ;  that  I  was 
represented  as  having  apostatized  from  the  true  faith  (I  never 
had  been  a  Romanist),  and  was  reckless  and  unprincipled  in 
an  extreme  degree.  As  a  proof  of  the  last  portion,  it  was 
stated  that  I  had  never  thought  even  of  inquiring  for  Meta  or  of 
seeing  her,  and  that  I  would  not  hesitate  to  sell  my  claim  to 
her  hand. 


SAINT  LEGER.  279 

These  insinuations  were  made  gradually  and  quietly  ;  not 
to  Meta,  for  no  opportunity  was  given  for  it ;  but  to  the 
baroness  and  the  lady  of  Rennewart.  After  a  season,  they 
had  been  convinced,  and  had  promised  Caspar  that  if  he  ob- 
tained proof  of  my  indifference,  they  would,  with  the  consent 
of  Meta,  and  of  my  father,  consider  him  the  betrothed.  He 
was  finally  allowed  several  interviews  with  Meta,  in  which  I 
was  traduced  in  the  vilest  manner ;  and  to  crown  the  whole, 
he  had  called  that  very  morning  and  left  my  written  renun- 
ciation. He  had  not  as  yet  produced  any  consent  from  my 
father,  but  had  promised  to  do  so  shortly.  The  baroness 
went  on  to  say,  that  she  hoped  I  would  add  nothing  to  what  I 
had  already  communicated,  that  she  felt  satisfied  of  my  honor 
and  integrity,  and  that  Caspar  had  always  excited  in  her  mind 
distrust  and  apprehension.  She  concluded  by  informing  me 
that  he  was  expected  to  return  and  dine  at  the  chateau,  and 
requested  me  to  take  such  steps  as  to  receiving  him  as  I  should 
think  proper. 

The  baroness  had  scarcely  concluded,  when  approaching 
footsteps  were  heard  in  the  great  hall,  and  Casper  was  ushered 
into  the  room.  He  stopped  quickly  on  seeing  me,  looked  at 
Meta  and  at  the  baroness,  and  turned  pale.  He  did  not  speak, 
nor  show  any  other  mark  of  excitement,  but  maintained  his 
position,  as  if  determined  to  be  addressed  before  accosting  any 
one.  It  was  too  much  for  me.  I  rose  and  came  close  to 
him  : 

,  "  Caspar,"  I  said,  "  you  are  henceforth  no  brother  of  mine. 
Never  again  speak  to  or  approach  me.  For  the  first  and  last 
time  I  heap  opprobrium  upon  you.  I  am  compelled  to  do  it 
in  my  own  defence.  I  call  you  forger,  liar,  knave.  Your 
plans  are  frustrated,  your  plot  discovered,  and  you  disgraced." 

Before  I  had  done  speaking,  his  countenance  had  resumed 
its  natural  cool,  sardonic  expression.     When  I  concluded,  ho 


2§0  SAINT  LEGE&. 

glanced  calmly  around  the  room,  gazed  for  a  moment  at  the 
baroness  and  at  Meta,  whose  looks  told  plainly  what  were 
their  feelings,  and  then  cast  his  eyes  upon  me,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  mingled  curiosity  and  scorn.  Suddenly  he  nodded 
his  head,  as  if  satisfied  with  the  scrutiny,  muttered  slowly  to 
himself  "  The  monk  was  right;"  turned  on  his  heel,  and  left 
the  apartment. 

The  departure  of  Caspar  was  a  great  relief  to  all.  So 
speedy  a  termination  of  the  interview,  especially  when  we 
believed  it  to  be  decisive,  removed  a  load  of  anxiety  which,  in 
spite  of  everything,  weighed  upon  us.  Meta  continued  silent, 
but  I  knew  she  felt  happy  and  tranquil,  because  I  myself  felt 
so.  The  baroness,  however,  had  enough  to  converse  about. 
She  taxed  my  patience  by  narrating  with  particularity  Caspar's 
course  from  the  commencement  of  her  acquaintance  with  him. 
"  She  could  now  see  why  he  had  said  such  and  such  a  thing, 
and  done  so  and  so  ;  she  was  sure  Meta  never  cared  for  him  ; 
that  Meta  would  say  so  herself,"  and  so  on  ;  until  at  last  I 
ventured  to  suggest  that  the  subject  might  be  unpleasant  to 
the  Lady  Meta,  (her  words  were  daggers  to  me  ;)  whereupon 
the  baroness  remembered  she  had  forgotten  something  or 
other  in  her  haste  to  receive  me,  and  begged  me  to  excuse 
her  presence.     I  was  left  alone  with  Meta. 

How  it  gladdened  my  soul  that  I  had  never  seriously  thought 
of  her  as  my  betrothed ;  for  my  heart  was  left  free  and  un- 
trammelled by  any  previous  association,  and  I  could  feel  like 
approaching  her  as  if  we  had  never  been  the  subject  of  com- 
pact or  conference.  All  the  unhappy  influences  of  a  betroth- 
ment  were  thus  obviated,  while  the  circumstances  connected 
with  Caspar's  villany  insensibly  drew  us  to  each  other.  After 
the  baroness  left  the  room,  we  took  a  stroll  together  upon  the 
bank  of  the  river.  We  spoke  not  one  word  of  the  incidents 
of  the   morning: ;   we   conversed   about    ordinary    and    casual 


SAINT  LEGER. 


281 


things.  Very  little  served  to  entertain  us,  for  we  were  satis- 
fied with  each  other. 

Day  after  day  passed,  and  found  me  still  at  the  chateau. 
Day  after  day  I  lingered  in  the  enjoyment  of  Meta's  society, 
and  dreaded  lest  any  change  should  break  the  spell  which 
held  me. 

Those  are  halcyon  days,  —  continued  Hegewisch,  after  a 
pause,  —  the  days  of  the  first  wish  of  love;  the  days  when  the 
object  is  found,  and  the  wish  becomes  a  sensation  ;  the  days 
when  as  yet  no  words  are  spoken,  but  when  in  their  place  is 
that  indescribable  something  in  the  look,  the  manner,  the 
conduct  of  each  toward  the  other,  which  is  perfectly  appre- 
ciated, yet  not  quite  understood ;  which  leaves  room  for  de- 
licious doubts,  and  exquisite  half-formed  hopes,  and  gentle 
fears,  and  sweet  questionings  of  the  heart. 

But  I  must  on !  May  the  Power  which  is  mightier  than  I 
give  me  strength  for  this  last  trial. 

XXI. 

Hegewisch  was  silent  several  minutes,  apparently  nerving 
himself  for  the  recital ;  then  his  countenance  grew  animated, 
his  eyes  gleamed  with  a  strange  fire,  and  he  exclaimed  in  a 
bitter  tone  : 

"  Nessun  maggior  dolore, 

Che  ricordarsi  del  tempo  felice 
Nella  ruiseria." 

The  Florentine  was  in  the  right  when  he  wrote  those 
lines.  No,  there  is  no  greater  anguish  ;  but  there  is  a  point 
beyond  that — yes  ! — where  no  anguish,  nor  sorrow,  nor  tor- 
ment comes  ;  because  there  is  nothing  within  by  which  to  feel 
them  any  more,  where  all  is  dead.  Dead !  what  more  hor- 
rible conception  !  what  so  dreadful  a  reality  !     Vitality,  but 


282  SAINT  LEGER. 

no  life;  mind,  thought,  memory,  but  no  hope,  no  apprehen- 
sion, no  joy,  no  pang !  Why  did  not  the  Ghibelline  put  that 
into  his  Divine  Comedy  1 

Life  !  shall  I  tell  you  what  it  is  ]  Ah,  would  it  were  what 
so  many  make  it :  a  pumping  of  air  in  and  out  of  the  lungs ; 
a  covering  of  the  nakedness,  to  the  prevention  of  shame  ;  eat- 
ing lest  the  body  fall  away ;  sleeping  o'  nights,  from  weari- 
someness  of  the  flesh!  —  then  were  man  indeed  somewhat 
better  than  a  beast.  But  to  have  pining  wants  which  gnaw 
the  soul,  and  for  which  no  provision  has  been  made ;  to  love, 
and  feel  that  love  lasts  only  so  long  as  life  ;  to  labor,  and  know 
that  the  grave  closes  upon  all  results  of  toil ;  to  enjoy,  and  be 
conscious  that  time  withers  up  the  sources  of  our  bliss  ;  to  be 
miserable,  and  feel  that  death  may  not  release  us ;  to  undergo 
all  the  mad  pleasures  of  earth,  and  all  the  remorse  which 
their  indulgence  brings  ;  to  feel  in  prosperity  that  nothing  can 
secure  against  change,  and  to  recognise  in  adversity  no  hope 
—  Ha!  ha!  that  —  that  is  life!  What  a  precious  boon  to 
that  poor  praying  beggar,  man !  But  in  me  the  god  of  this 
world  and  the  God  of  the  other  world  are  both  baffled,  for  I 
am  dead  ! 

—  He  paused,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands,  and  groaned  aloud.  '  Thus  far  he  had  run  on  with 
a  frantic  rapidity,  which  showed  that  his  reason  was  unsettled. 
I  had  thought  it  best  not  to  interrupt  him,  although  he  grew 
every  moment  more  wildly  excited.  But  the  reaction  came 
now;  and  with  exhaustion  came  reason  and  calmness,  and  a 
profound  melancholy. 

Saint  Leger — he  said,  in  a  subdued  tone — heed  not  my 
ravings.  Look  upon  me,  and  behold  a  desolated  ruin.  My 
spirit  and  my  body  are  fit  companions.  Ah,  when  shall  the 
end  be  1  I  will  go  on  with  my  story,  truthfully,  word  for 
word.     Perhaps  you  will  discover  wherein  I  have  sinned. 


SAINT  LEGER.  283 

Would  that  you  could,  for  it  would  be  a  relief  to  feel  I  had 
deserved  my  doom  !  The  fiend  who  is  dragging  me  to  per- 
dition could  then  no  longer  tempt  me  to  blaspheme  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

—  He  shuddered  as  he  uttered  these  words,  and  I  feared  he 
was  again  becoming  excited ;  but  he  preserved  his  compo- 
sure, and  presently  went  on  : 

After  several  days,  I  left  the  chateau  to  return  home.  My 
parting  with  Meta  was  one  of  the  happiest  moments  of  my 
life.  We  had  not  spoken  one  word  of  our  feelings  for  each 
other  during  my  stay — positively,  not  one  word ;  but  we  had 
talked  of  almost  everything  in  the  wide  world ;  we  had  ex- 
changed thoughts  and  sympathies,  and,  strange  to  say,  our 
feelings  were  in  exact  harmony.  The  endless,  boundless 
world  of  the  imaginative  and  the  imaginable  !  Pleasant  is  it 
when  we  find  in  another  the  echo  of  what  we  feel  and  are ; 
but  how  much  higher  the  enjoyment  when  we  can  appreciate 
in  such  a  one  the  feelings  which  we  ourselves  do  not  possess, 
and  thus  enter,  soul  with  soul,  into  the  sweet  exchange  of 
spiritual  harmonies  !  By  not  reducing  our  feelings  to  the 
point  of  mere  self-enjoyment,  we  experience  a  growing  hap- 
piness, the  reverse  of  what  those  lovers  feel  who  allow  the 
flame  to  die  by  what  it  feeds  on,  and  who  in  this  way  are  ex- 
posed to  the  curse  of  a  double  selfishness.  To  sustain  the  life 
of  the  affections,  we  require  a  companion,  not  a  counterpart ; 
and  they  are  blessed  who  mistake  not  one  for  the  other. 

I  said  that  my  parting  with  Meta  was  one  of  the  happiest 
moments  of  my  life  ;  for,  like  the  miser,  I  wanted  time  and 
opportunity  to  tell  over  my  treasures,  and  hug  the  remem- 
brance of  all  that  I  had  gained  closer  to  my  bosom.  Besides, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  our  intercourse  during  a  separation 
would  be  kept  up  with  all  the  charm  of  a  refined  spirituality; 
and  then  we   should  enjoy  that  mysterious  influence  which 


2§4  SAINT  LEGER. 

those  who  love  do  have  over  one  another  when  absent,  and 
which  is  more  precious  to  the  soul  than  all  the  delights  of  a 
closer,  sensible  union.  Thus  [  took  leave  of  the  baroness, 
and  bade  Meta  adieu,  and  went  on  my  way;  a  halo  of  bliss 
surrounded  me ;  I  dwelt  in  a  world  of  ecstasy.  What  a 
sweet  separation  !   what  happy  hours  of  exquisite  memoi'ies  ! 

XXII. 

How  opposite  all  this  to  the  stern,  unyielding,  practical, 
which  for  ever  unremittingly  does  labor,  laboring;  or  to  the 
iron  necessity  that  fills  the  stomachs  of  the  starving  by  robbery 
or  theft;  or  to  the  condition  of  the  sick  one,  languishing 
and  ready  to  die;  or  to  that  of  the  bold  blasphemer  of 
Almighty  God. 

XXIII. 

When  I  reached  my  home  I  found  Caspar  already  there. 
According  to  my  resolution,  I  passed  him  without  notice.  Be- 
lieving, however,  that  he  had  not  practised  upon  my  father,  I 
scorned  to  repeat  to  him  what  had  occurred. 

I  had  but  just  got  to  my  own  apartment,  on  the  first  day 
of  my  return  home,  when  he  opened  the  door  and  came  in. 

"Wolfgang,"  said  he,  with  an  ingenuous  air,  "you  are  a 
more  sensible  fellow  than  I  ever  gave  you  credit  for  being. 
You  have  outwitted  two  shrewd  heads,  and  how  the  deuce 
you  found  us  out  I  can  not  imagine.  You  are  reserved,  eh  1 
and  regard  me  with  offended  dignity  ?  Nay,  do  not  frown  ; 
do  not  draw  back.  Listen  to  me.  I  fell  in  love  with  Meta. 
You  look  indignant.  Well,  then,  I  will  '  speak  the  truth  and 
shame  the  devil.'  I  fell  in  love  with  the  Castle  of  Richstein 
and  its  dependencies,  and  old  baronies  and  tenures.  Now 
6tratoov  is  commendable  in  the  race  for  a  fair  maiden.     I  at- 


SAINT  LEGER.  285 

tempted  it  with  you,  and  I  have  been  foiled  :  had  I  succeeded, 
you  would  have  been  foiled.  But  here  is  my  hand;  for  once 
I  am  frank  with  you.  I  bear  you  no  malice  for  the  savage 
words  you  hurled  at  me  the  other  day.  Be  as  good  a  Chris- 
tian as  I  am  :  forgive  and  forget." 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could  preserve  my  self-posses- 
sion during  this  insulting  harangue.  When  it  was  concluded, 
I  waved  my  hand  and  bade  him  begone. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  my  offer  of  amity1?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Nothing  except  that  I  believe  you  are  as  treacherous  in 
the  offer  as  you  were  in  the  fraud  you  attempted  to  practise. 
For  the  sake  of  our  parents,  I  am  content  to  pass  you  as  I 
would  a  stranger.  Expect  nothing  more.  Come  not  near 
me  or  mine  ;  cross  not  my  path  ;  practise  on  me  no  more,  or 
by  the  blood  that  is  now  boiling  in  my  veins,  I  will  crush  you 
as  I  would  a  reptile  beneath  my  heel." 

'Fool,"  exclaimed  Caspar,  "I  was  prepared  to  yield  what 
fate  had  wrested  from  me  ;  but  as  you  defy  and  threaten  me, 
look  to  yourself.  You  have  roused  a  demon  within  me  which 
I  was  willing  enough  should  slumber.  Look  to  yourself;  for 
the  evil  day  comes  to  you  and  yours.  Remember  the  word  I 
utter  now  —  Revenge." 

He  went  out  in  a  passion,  and  departed  from  the  castle  : 
it  was  a  month  before  I  saw  him  again ;  then  he  had  resumed 
his  usual  manner,  only  he  was  more  quiet  and  taciturn.  We 
met  as  strangers,  having  no  intercourse  whatever.  It  thus 
became  necessary  that  the  baron  should  understand  what  had 
passed  between  us.  I  gave  him  an  account  of  the  whole  af- 
fair. He  was  almost  prostrated  at  the  recital ;  the  forgery 
touched  him  to  the  quick.  For  a  time  he  was  in  the  deepest 
agony :  no  one  can  portray  his  feelings.  His  first  intention 
was  to  banish  Caspar  for  ever  from  his  roof;  but  I  interposed^ 


2S6  SAINT  LEGER. 

My  kind  and  gentle  mother  also  interceded,  and  it  was  set- 
tled that  he  might  remain.  Caspar,  however,  could  not  but 
observe  the  change  which  had  taken  place  in  the  castle.  Ev- 
i  r\  eye  was  averted  as  he  passed,  and  every  look  told  strong- 
ly of  dislike  and  contempt. 

This  seemed  not  to  affect  him  ;  he  preserved  the  same  hab- 
its of  careless  and  hardened  indifference.  And  so  we  lived 
another  year. 

Remorseless,  the  wheel  of  time  sweeps  onward.  Now 
heavily  creaking,  it  moves  with  a  duller  pace  than  the  snail. 
Again  it  hastens  majestically  with  a  thunder-speed.  Anon 
the  wheel  flies  round  and  round  with  impress  as  light  as  the 
footprint  of  the  swift  Camilla.  But  remorseless  always,  for  it 
is  driven  by  Destiny. 

Speak  I  not  an  illusion?  Moves  the  hand  upon  the  dial,  slow 
or  fast,  as  I  suffer  or  am  happy?  Does  the  sun  stand  still  on 
Gibeon  while  I  groan  under  the  torture  of  the  rack  ?  or  has- 
tens it  down  behind  the  groves  of  Vallombrosa  as  I  hang  in 
ecstasy  on  the  lips  of  my  beloved  ?  And  yet  it  is  thus  our 
feelings  give  character  to  the  world  about  us ;  to  time  and  to 
eternity.    And  it  is  thus  that  I  can  understand  an  eternal  hell. 

—  He  continued  to  moralize,  like  a  man  desiring  to  gain 
time  before  submitting  to  some  painful  operation.  I  did  not 
interrupt  him,  and  at  length  he  came  back  to  his  story  : 

"Well,  another  year  was  gone.  I  had  passed  it  profitably  ; 
I  had  become  a  man.  During  the  period,  Meta  and  I  had 
spoken  to  each  other  of  our  love.  It  did  not  make  me  the 
less  happy,  for  although  my  heaven  of  bliss  faded  mysterious- 
ly away, it  left  a  terrestrial  paradise  inks  place  more  natural, 
and  therefore  I  should  say  happier,  in  an  earthly  state.  For 
it  yields  a  more  desirable  existence  in  a  world  where  joy  and 
sorrow  are  to  be  shared  by  trusting  and  trustful  hearts. 

What  therefore  nature  crdains,  who  should  gainsay  ?     Ah, 


SAINT  LEGER.  287 

I  had  no  wish  to  gainsay  it,  when  I  could  pour  out  my  whole 
soul  in  impassioned  accents,  and  receive  in  return  the  treas- 
ures of  her  heart. 

How  we  talked,  and  hoped,  and  planned  !  what  rich  con- 
tributions were  levied  upon  the  future  !  What  images  of 
bliss  did  we  see  in  all  coming  time,  and  how  did  we  paint  the 
golden  hours,  when  closely  united,  never  to  be  separated  in 
life,  earth  would  become  to  us  an  Elysium  !  All  that  I  had 
ever  hoped  for  or  imagined,  all  that  poets  had  ever  painted, 
or  minstrels  sung,  I  found  in  the  soul  of  my  betrothed. 

Gladly  would  I  linger  here  over  that  happy  year.  A  life- 
time of  love  was  crowded  into  it. 

I  was  now  a  man,  and  began  to  feel  stirring  within  me  that 
leaven  of  unrest  which  after  a  certain  period,  for  some  strange 
purpose,  works  in  the  human  breast  unceasingly,  urging  to 
action  and  to  toil.  This  did  not  disturb  my  soul's  passion — • 
my  love  for  Meta ;  it  rather  gave  it  force  and  manliness. 
But  I  felt  that  there  was  something  to  be  seen  and  known  be- 
yond the  petty  boundary  of  my  own  principality.  I  had  a 
healthful  curiosity  to  visit  other  countries,  that  I  might  return 
with  more  expanded  ideas,  with  a  larger  benevolence,  with  a 
fuller  view  of  humanity,  so  that  T  might  better  understand  my 
true  relation  with  the  world.  I  became  fully  possessed  with 
this  desire.  Meta,  whose  love  was  not  bounded  by  narrow 
selfishness,  and  who  entered  into  all  my  thoughts,  encouraged 
me  in  my  plan.  The  baron,  my  father,  approved  of  it,  and 
my  dear  mother  would  not  say  nay,  although  she  shook  her 
head  mournfully,  and  her  eyes  would  fill  with  tears  whenever 
T  mentioned  the  subject. 

Twenty-one  years  six  months  and  thirteen  days  of  life  had 
I  lived ,  eighteen  years  and  Jive  months  had  lived  Meta, 
when  I  set  out  for  the  old  castle  of  Richstein,  to  bid  her  adieu 
before  I  hastened  on  my  voyage.     There  were  feastings  at 


288  SAINT  LEGER. 

the  castle,  and  there  was  wassail  among  the  neighboring  lords, 
and  among  the  retainers  and  dependents  of  Richstein,  for  the 
lady  Meta  had  returned  to  her  ancestral  house,  thenceforth  to 
be  her  home.  With  her  had  come  the  lady  of  Rennewart,  a 
proper  companion  and  guide  for  a  young  maiden  under  these 
newly  assumed  honors. 

We  met  as  lovers  should  meet.  We  —  [here  the  student 
stopped,  his  voice  was  difficult ;  his  face  exhibited  the  deep- 
est despair]  pai-ted —  as  lovers  should  part  [he  ejaculated, 
after  an  effort]  :  Twenty-one  years  and  six  months  and  thir- 
teen days  lived  I ;  eighteen  years  and  five  months  lived 
Meta,  and  no  more  time  lived  we;  no  more  —  no  more ! 
There  stopped  the  hands  upon  the  dial-plate.  Let  death  and 
hell  rejoice — they  were  victorious. 

It  is  of  no  consequence  where  I  voyaged.  But,  in  brief, 
let  me  say,  that  I  visited  the  Americas,  and  doubled  the  cape, 
where  two  oceans  sweep  together.  I  went  among  nations 
unenlightened  and  barbarous,  and  visited  countries  civilized 
and  refined.  I  passed  to  the  gorgeous  East,  and  trod  the 
precincts  of  the  Holy  Land.  My  tour  was  not,  as  my  rambles 
about  home  had  been,  desultory.  I  planned  it  with  care. 
Two  years  was  the  time  I  allowed  for  my  absence,  and  I  al- 
lotted a  certain  period  to  each  division  of  my  journey.  Upon 
the  map,  Meta  and  I  had  marked  where  I  would  probably  be 
at  such  and  such  a  time,  so  that  we  might  keep  up  a  close 
union  of  ideas. 

I  passed  first,  young  Englishman,  to  your  country,  and 
there  learned  what  was  liberty ;  therefore  I  liked  your  na- 
tion.    From  England  I  sailed  upon  my  voyage. 

Meta  and  I  had  one  source  of  distress.  This  was  the  long 
time  that  must  intervene  in  hearing  from  each  other.  In  Eng- 
land I  could  receive  frequent  intelligence,  but,  my  voyage  com- 
menced, a  long  period  would  elapse  before  we  should  hear 


SAINT  LEGER.  289 

again.  She,  however,  was  to  send  letters  in  advance  to  the 
places  I  was  expected  to  touch  at  or  visit,  and  I,  in  return, 
promised  to  write  by  every  opportunity. 

During  the  first  twelve  months  after  leaving  England  I  heard 
from  Meta  four  times,  and  from  my  home  as  often.  For  the 
next  six  months  I  could  not  expect  to  hear  from  her,  owing 
to  the  infrequency  of  my  route ;  but  I  comforted  myself  with 
the  thought  that  after  that  time,  I  should  be  continually  ap- 
proaching home,  and  should  hear  often  of  the  welfare  of  those 
I  loved. 

I  came  at  last  to  Constantinople.  My  pilgrimage  seemed 
drawing  to  a  close.  I  could  now  at  least  communicate  di- 
rectly with  my  fatherland.  I  was  confident  of  finding  a  large 
budget  at  the  Prussian  embassy.  But  I  went  and  found 
nothing.  I  knew  there  was  some  mistake,  and  so  inquired 
again.  Still  nothing.  I  asked  once  more,  with  great  par- 
ticularity.     Nothing — nothing  at  all. 

I  never  felt  heart-sick  before,  but  I  tried  to  sustain  courage. 
In  the  disturbed  state  of  Europe  what  wonder  if  packages 
should  miscarry ;  but  how  could  so  many  have  miscarried  ? 
After  all,  I  did  not  know  how  to  despair ;  my  heart  was  nat- 
urally buoyant,  and  I  could  not  augur  ill  of  the  future,  for  the 
future  had  never  deceived  me.  I  stayed  nearly  a  month  in  tho 
city  of  the  Moslem,  hoping  each  day  that  I  should  hear  news 
from  home,  but  none  came.  So,  after  hurrying  rapidly 
through  Greece,  I  sailed  for  Leghorn,  where  I  was  sure  of 
hearing  something.  And  I  did  hear.  There  was  one  letter 
wailing  my  arrival  at  the  commercial  house  to  whose  care  all 
communications  for  me  were  to  be  addressed.  One  Icller, 
directed  in  a  strange  hand,  was,  by  the  confidential  clerk  —  a 
withered  old  man  with  a  bald  head  and  dull  gray  eyes — given 
to  me  ;  and,  taking  it,  I  retired  in  haste  from  the  counting- 
room,  and  gaining  the  street,  I  walked  slowly  toward  ray  ho- 
19 


290  SAIXT  LEGER. 

tel.  I  had  the  letter  in  ray  hand  all  the  time.  I  looked  at  it 
nften  on  the  way,  but  did  not  open  it. 

I  reached  my  hotel ;  went  to  my  apartment ;  bolted  the 
door  ;  I  laid  aside  my  cap  and  cloak,  and  sat  down.  Still  the 
letter  remained  unopened.  In  one  instant  I  could  know  my 
fate.     I  took  a  long  breath,  broke  away  the  seal,  and  tore 

open  the  sheet My  father  was  dead,  that  was 

all.     Meta — was  safe  ! 

The  letter  was  written  by  a  friend  of  the  family,  announcing 
the  sudden  death  of  my  father,  and  urging  my  immediate  re- 
turn. It  was  dated  more  than  six  months  previous,  and  stated 
that  duplicates  would  be  sent  to  every  place  at  which  I  might 
be  supposed  to  touch.  The  letter  was  short,  but  it  spoke  of 
my  mother  as  too  overwhelmed  by  the  event  to  write  to  me. 
My  friends  were  generally  well.  A  post-scriptum,  however, 
added,  that  a  courier  had  just  arrived  from  Richstein,  announ- 
cing the  decease  of  the  lady  of  Rennewart. 

In  thirty  minutes  I  was  en  route  for  Germany.  I  paused 
neither  night  nor  day.  When  horses  gave  out  I  changed  them. 
I  had  no  rest  nor  refreshment  except  what  I  took  in  my  car- 
riage. Night  and  day,  day  and  night,  I  hurried  on.  At 
length,  one  morning,  as  the  gray  dawn  began  to  streak  over 
the  east,  I  arrived  at  a  little  town  about  five  leagues  from 
Richstein.  There  I  stopped  and  ordered  breakfast  and  fresh 
horses.  So  far,  excitement  had  kept  me  up  ;  but  now  I  felt 
the  need  of  something  to  sustain  me. 

I  ate  breakfast ;  I  can  swear  that  I  did.  I  remember  it 
with  distinctness  ;  but  my  heart  throbbed  loudly  all  the  time. 
Again  1  was  on  the  road,  and  it  would  soon  bring  me  to  the 
castle  of  Richstein. 

My  heart  beat  louder  and  louder.  I  was  tempted  to  ask 
some  questions  of  one  of  the  postillions,  but  refrained.  The 
Rhine  flowed    along  placidly,   as  of  yore,  and  through  the 


SAINT  LEGER  291 

trees  I  could  discern  the  towers  of  Richstein  standing  out 
cheerfully  in  the  morning  sun. 

I  drove  up  the  main  avenue,  and  getting  out  before  I  reach- 
ed the  castle,  I  bade  the  postillions  wait  for  me.  Hastening 
down  a  private  path  which  led  to  a  secret  entrance  to  the 
castle,  I  gained  the  main  hall,  where  I  encountered  one  of 
the  old  servants,  whom  I  at  once  recognised.  "  Where," 
said  I,  "  is  your  mistress  1    where  is  the  lady  Meta  V 

The  old  man's  countenance  fell ;  his  voice  faltered,  but  he 
made  out  to  answer :  "  In  her  own  apartment,  sir ;  next  to 
the  library." 

I  bounded  up  the  stairway ;  I  passed  through  the  narrow 
hall ;  I  reached  Meta's  room  ;  I  flung  open  the  door.  Meta 
was  sitting  unoccupied,  looking  out  at  the  window.  She 
seemed  just  as  beautiful  and  as  blooming  as  when  I  left  her. 
Rapturously  I  called  out  her  name  and  ran  toward  her.  She 
turned  upon  me  an  unmeaning  look,  started  from  her  seat, 
and  ran  to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Oh,  God  !  what  did 
it  mean ! 

I  called  to  Meta  again.  I  repeated  my  own  name,  and 
asked  her  if  she  did  not  know  me.  She  screamed  aloud  at 
the  sound  of  my  voice,  and  falling  on  her  knees,  began  praying 
piteously  for  mercy.  "  No !  no  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  will 
never  speak  of  Wolfgang  again  !  —  I  will  only  pray  for  him  ! 
I  must  pray  for  him — I  will  pray  for  him  !  —  though  you 
beat  me,  murder  me,  give  me  that  hateful  thing  to  drink  — 
pray  for  him  I  will !  but  nothing  more  !  nothing  more  !" 
And  then  she  burst  into  tears,  and  went  on  weeping  so  sadly, 
that  I  knew  not  what  to  do.  Oh,  merciful  Creator  !  the 
truth  burst  upon  me  —  my  Meta  was  mad.  But  I  had  still  to 
know  the  worst  —  still  to  feel  the  iron  enter  deeper  into  my 
soul. 

The    door    opened,    and    Caspar   entered.       '  Soho,    Mr. 


202  SAINT  LEGER. 

Knight-Errant!"  he  exclaimed;  "you  have  returned,  eh? 
T  have  no  objections  to  greeting  you  at  the  proper  time  and 
in  the  proper  place,  but  you  must  not  come  here  into  my  wife's 
apartment !" 

I  did  not  tremble,  nor  turn  pale ;  I  grew  composed.  My 
heart  ceased  to  beat  loudly,  and  fell  back  into  its  customary 
measured  pulsation.  I  saw  it  all,  and  stood  firm.  "  Is  Meta 
your  wife  V  said  I,  sternly. 

"  She  is,"  said  the  other ;  "  and  the  sooner  you  leave  this 
room,  the  better.  She  is  very  nervous,  as  you  perceive,  and 
your  presence  is  particularly  disagreeable  to  her." 

"Wretch — devil — hell-hound!"  said  I,  fiercely,  "your 
life  is  in  danger  !" 

The  villain  smiled  contemptuously  and  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  dagger,  which  he  half  unsheathed. 

"  Nay,  draw  it ;  I  say  to  you  that  I  will  not  leave  this 
room  !" 

"We  shall  see,"  said  Caspar;  and  going  out  he  returned 
presently  with  three  or  four  men  servants. 

"Put  that  man  out  from  here,  and  turn  him  from  the 
castle." 

"  The  man  who  touches  me  at  this  moment,  shall  look  for 
his  soul  in  eternity  the  next." 

The  men  did  not  stir. 

"  And  as  for  you,"  I  said,  turning  to  Caspar,  "  do  as  I  bid 
you  :  draw  your  dagger  ;  defend  yourself  the  best  way  you 
can  ;  for  your  time  is  short.' 

So  saying,  I  rushed  upon  him,  twisted  the  dagger  from  his 
hand,  and  seizing  him  in  my  arms,  swung  him  round  and 
round  as  if  he  were  a  plaything,  and  hurled  him  through  the 
lattice-work  clear  out  of  the  window,  to  the  pavement  below. 
By  Heaven,  I  did  !  I  hurled  him  out  upon  the  stone-work  as 
I  would  toss  a  biscuit  overboard  into  the  sea. 


SAINT  LEGER.  293 

I  glanced  round  and  said,  "  Whose  turn  next  1  who  wants 
to  follow?" 

The  room  was  vacant  in  a  trice. 

I  turned  to  look  for  Meta.  She  had  crept  up  into  the  cor- 
ner of  the  room,  and  was  crouching  behind  some  drapery  that 
lay  there.  I  touched  her.  She  looked  up  at  me  with  her 
once  beautiful  but  now  wild  eyes,  and  exclaimed  piteously, 
"  Oh,  do  not,  do  not  come  so  near  me  !  I  have  seen  you  in 
dreams,  and  in  visions,  and  in  the  voice  of  waters,  and  have 
prayed  for  your  soul's  welfare,  my  beloved  !"  And  then  she 
burst  into  tears  again.  I  could  endure  this  no  longer.  I 
took  my  betrothed  in  my  arms.  I  went  down  the  staircase 
and  out  at  the  secret  entrance,  and  traversed  the  private  path 
until  I  came  to  the  carriage.  I  placed  Meta  in  it,  and  getting 
in  myself,  took  her  in  my  arms,  and  ordered  the  postillions  to 

drive    swiftly    to  .      They    obeyed.     The    wheels   flew 

round  ;  the  distance  was  rapidly  passed.  Meta  slumbered 
upon  my  breast  as  sweetly  as  an  infant. 

At  length  the  walls  of  my  paternal  mansion  were  in  sight. 
The  wanderer  had  returned  from  his  pilgrimage,  and  had 
brought  home  his  bride.  Presently  we  reached  the  castle. 
I  was  in  my  mother's  arms.  I  know  not  how.  The  whole 
household  were  almost  instantly  around  me,  and  received 
me  as  one  restored  from  the  dead.  Meta  was  carried  sleep- 
ing to  a  quiet  chamber,  and  there  I  watched  her.  I  did  not 
sleep. 

She  slept  peacefully  for  several  hours.  I  did  not  leave 
her  an  instant  during  the  time.  At  last  she  awoke.  With 
what  eagerness  I  had  waited  for  that  moment ;  but,  alas !  I 
was  to  be  disappointed ;  her  reason  had  not  returned.  When 
I  spoke  to  her,  she  commenced  weeping,  as  if  her  heart  would 
break.  The  burden  of  all  she  said  was,  that  she  had  prayed 
for  me,  that  she  would  pray  for  me  and  for  the  welfare  of  my 


294  SAINT  LEGER. 

soul ;  then  she  implored  my  forgiveness,  and  again  cried 
piteously  for  mercy. 

I  was  distracted.  How  I  bore  my  anguish  I  know  not. 
My  mother  came  in.  At  the  sight  of  her,  Meta  was  soothed. 
She  nestled  her  face  in  my  mother's  bosom,  and  was  tranquil. 

On  the  first  opportunity  I  sought  an  explanation.  The  bar- 
oness could  give  none.  She  could  only  say  that  after  my  de- 
parture everything  went  on  happily  and  well  until  the  death 
of  my  father,  which  had  occurred  suddenly  about  seven 
months  previous ;  and  that  the  lady  of  Rennewart  had  died  un- 
der a  similar  attack  on  the  succeeding  day.  My  mother  was  so 
overwhelmed  by  the  dreadful  affliction,  that  for  some  months 
she  was  unable  to  leave  her  room ;  and  when  she  did  come 
out,  she  learned  that  Caspar  had  espoused  the  lady  Meta ;  that 
they  were  privately  married,  a  dispensation  having  been  pro- 
cured for  that  purpose.  She  had  not  seen  Caspar  since  the 
death  of  the  baron,  and  upon  going  to  Richstein  to  visit  the 
lady  Meta,  she  was  refused  admittance  upon  some  frivolous 
excuse.  This  was  all  my  mother  could  tell  me.  Would 
you  believe  it,  that  in  this  enlightened  age,  and  in  this  en- 
lightened country,  such  an  outrage  could  have  been  commit- 
ted so  secretly,  and  so  surely  1  But  two  devils  planned  it,  and 
hell  gloried  in  the  plot. 

How  my  heart  was  crushed,  day  by  day,  I  need  not  tell  you. 
To  see  my  betrothed,  apparently  in  health,  fair  and  beautiful 
as  ever,  and  yet,  a  maniac  or  an  imbecile !  How  can  I  sit  so 
calmly  and  tell  all  this  !  Why  will  not  my  heart  bleed  !  — 
why  can  I  not  feel ! 

I  watched  over  Meta  almost  every  moment,  and  when  I  was 
not  with  her,  my  mother  took  my  place. 

I  gave  not  a  thought  about  the  fate  of  Caspar,  but  news 
found  its  way  to  the  castle,  that  he  had  been  taken  up  bleed- 
ing and  insensible,  and  that,  although  he  was  severely  hurt, 


SAINT  LEGEB, 


295 


his  injuries  were  not  considered  fatal.  I  was  not  the  destroyer 
of  my  brother.  I  am  thankful  now  that  it  was  so.  Then  I 
did  not  care. 

Weeks  passed  on.  Sometimes  I  would  take  hope,  from 
Meta's  becoming  more  quiet  than  usual.  She  would  look  at 
me  w'th  an  almost  natural  expression,  and  then  would  com- 
mence weeping  violently,  insisting,  as  usual,  that  she  would 
pray  for  me.  At  last  she  fell  sick.  It  was  a  blessed  relief, 
for  I  could  alleviate  her  physical  suffering,  although  I  could 
not  minister  to  the  troubles  of  her  soul. 

A  burning  fever  attacked  her.  Her  strength  was  pros- 
trated. A  celebrated  physician,  my  father's  friend,  was  called 
in.  He  took  great  interest*in  the  case,  and  watched  it  with 
sedulous  attention.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  him  at  the  bedside 
of  his  patient :  so  careful,  so  discriminating,  so  judicious.  To. 
this  physician,  this  friend,  I  had  given  no  word  of  explana- 
tion ;  but  I  saw  that  he  knew  all. 

One  morning,  after  paying  his  usual  visit,  he  called  me  into 
another  room.  "  I  think  it  best,"  said  he,  "  to  advise  you  that 
a  crisis  will  soon  take  place  in  the  disease  under  which  the 
lady  Meta  is  languishing :  probably  to-morrow,  perhaps  to- 
night. If  she  comes  out  of  her  present  state  with  her  reason 
restored,  she  will  not  again  lose  it,  but  —  she  will  die.  She 
can  not  survive  many  days.  If,  on  the  contrary,  she  comes 
out  of  it  with  a  dull  and  settled  melancholy,  she  will  recover ; 
but  she  will  always  remain  in  imbecility." 

I  was  again  seized  with  terror.  I  turned  away,  and  went 
back  to  Meta's  chamber.  She  was  in  a  deep  slumber.  I 
knelt  by  her  bedside,  and  prayed  that  her  reason  might  come 
back  to  her,  and  that  she  might  die. 

The  sleep  continued  through  the  night.  During  the  whole 
time  I  sat  by  her  and  watched.  The  disease  had  done  its 
office  upon  that  lovely  handiwork  of  God.     There  were  the 


296  SAINT  LEGER. 

sunken  eye,  and  the  pale,  thin  cheek,  and  the  pallid  brow ; 
yet  these  were  not  half  so  appalling  as  were  all  the  marks  of 
life  and  health,  and  fresh,  living  beauty,  which  she  had  retained 
at  the  expense  of  a  soul  in  ruins. 

The  morning  came,  and  she  still  slumbered.  I  gazed  at 
her  by  the  light  of  day,  and  thought  I  saw  a  change  on  her 
countenance ;  calmness,  and  quietude,  were  there. 

No  one  was  in  the  room  save  Meta  and  I.  At  length  she 
breathed  heavily  and  opened  her  eyes.  I  trembled  so  much 
that  my  knees  shook  together.  She  looked  faintly  around,  as 
if  the  place  were  unfamiliar,  and  then  fixed  her  eyes  upon 
me.  A  thrill  of  pain  seemed  to  dart  through  her,  and  then  a 
ray  of  joy  illumined  her  wan  face.  She  raised  her  hands, 
and  extended  them  toward  me.  "  Thank  God,"  she  mur- 
mured, and  swooned  away.  When  she  came  to  herself  she 
was  very  weak,  but  she  was  tranquil.  She  could  scarcely 
speak,  but  I  saw  that  she  was  happy.  I  bent  over  her,  and 
she  whispered,  and  called  me  Wolfgang.  She  asked  where 
she  was,  and  when  I  had  come  back,  and  whether  I  had  been 
all  the  time  well. 

She  had  no  recollection  of  anything  unhappy  or  unpleasant 
respecting  herself,  and  I  thanked  Heaven  for  this  drop  of  real 
mercy.  She  said  she  had  been  ill,  dreadfully  ill,  for  months ; 
and  had  been  tormented  with  horrible  dreams  and  visions,  too 
horrible  to  think  of,  or  to  mention,  but  that  she  felt  better 
now.     This  was  all  she  said. 

I  feared,  as  her  sense  became  clearer,  that  the  truth  would 
dawn  upon  her  :  but  it  was  not  so.  She  continued  to  speak 
of  her  long  illness,  dating  its  commencement  from  the  sudden 
death  of  the  lady  of  Rennewart — the  last  event  she  recol- 
lected. 

She  continued  nearly  without  change  for  several  days.  She 
was  extremely  weak,  but  daily  gained  a  little  strength.     Still, 


SAINT  LEGER. 


297 


she  herself  had  no  hope  of  recovering.  She  would  hold  my 
hand  for  hours,  and,  when  too  feeble  to  converse,  gaze  at  me 
as  if  her  soul  was  drinking  in  delight. 

Oh,  happy  unconsciousness  !  Oh,  blessed  memory,  that  for 
once  forgot  its  office ! 

"  This  is  not  the  promised  consummation,  Wolfgang,  dear- 
est," said  Meta  to  me  one  evening.  "  But  what  matters  it  ? 
our  spirits  are  wedded.  And,  if  I  precede  you  to  the  bright 
world  beyond,  your  soul  will  find  out  mine  :  and  then  we  shall 
never  part  again.  No  voyaging,  then,  Wolfgang,  no  voya- 
ging, then !" 

My  heart  was  bursting.  I  leaned  my  head  upon  her  pillow 
in  agony. 

"  Nay,  this  is  unkind.  The  strong  should  have  confidence. 
But  ah,  I  see  !  God,  in  mercy,  when  he  takes  away  our . 
strength,  bestows  upon  us  faith." 

"  Do  you  remember,  Wolfgang,  those  happy  hours  at 
Rhineck  1  In  a  little  while  we  shall  be  spending  happier 
seasons  than  those.  I  believe  it.  I  know  it,"  she  continued, 
while  her  countenance  grew  bright  with  the  radiance  of 
heaven. 

"  You  will  not  be  very  happy,  dear  Wolfgang,  when  I  am 
gone  ;  but  a  little  while,  and  then,  we  part  no  more — no 
more.  Here  now,  upon  the  borders  of  the  other  world,  I 
feel  that  there  was  no  earth,  no  dross,  in  my  love  for  you  ;  and 
this  is  why  I  know  we  shall  be  one  hereafter." 

For  a  few  days  Meta  continued  to  gain  strength,  slowly, 
and  I  began  to  hope  :  hope  1  to  fear,  rather ;  for  how  could  I 
ever  name  to  her  the  dreadful  truth.  I  forced  the  subject 
from  my  mind,  and  gave  myself  entirely  to  that  suffering 
angel. 

Even  the  physician  seemed  as  if  he  thought  his  prediction 
might  prove  false.     But  it  was  not  to  be.     Two  weeks  had 


298  SAINT  LEGER. 

elapsed,  when  one  morning  Meta  complained  of  faintness. 
Upon  examination  it  was  found  that  internal  hemorrhage  had 
commenced,  caused  by  the  violence  of  the  fever.  All  that 
skill  could  suggest  was  put  in  requisition  to  check  the  at- 
tack, but  it  was  of  no  avail  ;  she  died — she  died  sweetly, 
gently,  lovingly,  in  the  morning,  while  the  sun  was  beaming 
brightly,  and  the  river  was  running  placidly  on  its  course ; 
when  birds  were  singing  and  the  world  was  alive  to  cheerful- 
ness and  joy. 

It  was  a  time  for  her  to  die.  I  held  her  hand  clasped  ten- 
derly in  mine,  when  the  spirit  left  its  home ;  and  then,  I  had 
only  the  hand,  but  no  Meta — ah,  God  !  no  Meta. 

—  Hegewisch  remained  for  some  time  silent,  and  then  went 
on  in  a  different  tone  and  with  the  air  of  one  relieved  from  a 
dreaded  task  : 

I  had  yet  to  sustain  another  shock.  My  kind  physician 
sought  an  early  opportunity  to  speak  to  me  in  private. 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  he,  "from  the  bottom  of  my  soul 
I  pity  you.  What  I  am  about  to  say,  you  must  hear,  and,  if 
you  can,  forget.  I  was  your  father's  early  friend  and  com- 
panion. We  were  together  always.  I  attended  him  upon 
his  death-bed.  I  tell  you  —  you,  his  son  —  that  the  baron  died 
by  poison." 

"And  the  Lady  of  Rennewart?"  said  I  convulsively. 

"  In  the  same  way,  without  doubt.     I  did  not  attend  her." 

"  And  Caspar  1" 

"  We  have  said  enough.     Adieu." 

Here  was  room  for  a  world  of  horrible  surmises.  So  long 
as  Meta  lived,  I  thought  only  of  her.  Under  the  pressure  of 
this  horror,  a  new  feeling  took  possession  of  me  :  it  was  a  de- 
sire for  vengeance. 

I  dared  not  deliberately  imbrue  my  hands  in  a  brother's 
blood  ;  so  I  turned  all  my  hate  upon  his  coadjutor  and  abet- 


SAINT  LEGER. 


299 


ter,  Father  Hegel.  I  did  not  try  further  to  solve  the  mystery- 
connected  with  the  late  terrible  events.  I  guessed  enough. 
And  therefore  my  revenge  sought  out  the  monk. 

I  deliberated  upon  many  plans,  but  in  none  could  I  please 
myself.  I  tried  to  invent  some  new  and  devilish  torture  to 
which  to  subject  his  vile  body  while  I  should  stand  gloating 
over  the  spectacle.  I  thought  of  seizing  him  secretly,  and 
starving  him  slowly  to  death.  No  scheme  which  man  or  fiend 
could  suggest,  did  I  fail  to  turn  over  in  my  mind.  At  length 
I  determined  to  kill  him  before  the  very  altar,  while  he  was 
offering,  with  his  unholy  breath,  some  prayer  to  Heaven. 
Then  I  could  send  his  soul  to  hell  — doubly  damned  by  hypo- 
critical offerings  to  the  God  he  was  mocking. 

The  monk  was  accustomed  on  certain  occasions  to  cele- 
brate mass  at  a  chapel  near  our  castle.  I  watched  for  the- 
time  and  for  the  season ;  both  came  ;  and  I  sat  out  one  morn- 
ing to  perform  the  sacrifice.  I  was  late  in  gaining  the  chapel, 
and  as  1  came  up  I  perceived  a  crowd  around  the  entrance. 
I  made  my  way  hastily  to  it,  and  beheld  Father  Hegel  lying 
in  the  agonies  of  death.  He  had  fallen  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy. 
There  he  lay,  his  sensual  features  full  of  blood,  while  the  dis- 
tortions of  his  countenance  showed  his  agony.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments he  was  no  more ;  and  1  was  cheated  of  my  revenge. 
I  did  not  rave  till  then.  I  turned  away,  and  before  the  temple 
and  the  altar  cursed  God.  I  rejected  all  belief  in  a  Savior, 
and  blasphemed  the  Holy  Ghost.  Hell  was  not  black  enough 
to  darken  my  heart.  I  had  borne  everything  till  now  —  and 
now,  everything  was  insupportable.  I  ran  with  incredible 
swiftness  back  to  the  castle.  I  gained  her  room.  I  locked 
myself  in  —  I  threw  myself  upon  her  bed.  I  grew  wild  and 
delirious;  I  began  to  be  in  pain;  I  flung  the  door  open  and 
shouted  for  help.  My  mother  and  several  of  the  servants 
came.     That  night  the   fever   attacked  me,  and  for  weeks  I 


300 


PAINT  LEGE  It- 


was  prostrate  under  its  burning  rage.  I  could  never  have 
recovered  without  the  attention  of  a  tender  parent  and  de- 
voted physician.  Yet  I  did  recover,  but,  as  you  see  me,  with 
these  hollow  cheeks  —  this  repulsive  countenance — these 
sunken  eyes. 

I  determined  to  leave  my  home,  for  the  fiend  followed  me 
wherever  I  went,  whispering  that  Caspar  lived.  So  I  took 
leave  of  my  mother  —  one  bright,  moonlight  night,  when  she 
was  fast  asleep — by  kissing  her  many,  many  times.  You 
know  she  was  the  only  one  left  who  cared  for  me  :  but — I 
went  on  my  way.  I  have  spent  most  of  the  time  since  at  the 
universities.  I  do  not  know  why,  but  study  and  toil  of  mind 
are  best  for  me.  Once  my  mother  discovered  where  I  was, 
and  I  had  to  go  back  with  her,  but  I  made  my  escape,  and 
came  here  to  Leipsic. 

I  have  tried  very  hard  to  feel.  I  have  wished  that  some- 
thing might  excite  me ;  that  my  life  might  be  in  danger,  so 
that,  instinctively,  1  should  put  forth  my  strength  to  save  it. 
I  avoid  no  danger ;  I  keep  open  house  ;  here  is  my  treasury, 
[the  student  pulled  out  a  drawer,  without  lock  or  key,  nearly 
filled  with  gold  pieces]  but  nobody  robs  the  strange  fellow, 
ha  —  ha — ha !  They  are  afraid  of  me.  I  sleep  in  yonder ;  and 
sometimes  I  lay  all  night  and  think  of  Meta  and  myself  at  the 
old  chateau.  And  my  heart  seems  less  dead — and  then,  I 
sleep — to  wake,  always  the  same — always  the  same.  Now 
leave  me  ! 

1  took  my  departure  in  silence. 

Thus  ends  the  story  of  Wolfgang  Hegewisch. 


END  OF  BOOK  THIRD. 


BOOK    IV. 

'£>  <J>IAEIIAN    tc  nai   a\\ot    Ocoi,    Soir,TC  /<o<  KdXu  ytviaQai   ravSoBev,  rafaBn 

Si  8<ra  ?Xmi  ro^s  'tos  £ivat  jioi  ipi\ta» 

Ph(ebrus,  279,  B. 

Oh  thou  beloved  Universal  Numen,  and  ye  other  Divinities,  grant  that  I 
may  become  more  beautiful  within,  and  that  whatever  of  externals  I  may 
possess  may  be  all  in  harmony  with  my  inward  (spiritual)  being. 


BOOK    FOURTH. 


I. 

The  casement  is  open.  The  delicious  perfume  of  summer 
finds  its  way  hither  unbidden.  The  still,  solemn  pines  tower 
up  in  the  twilight.  Across  the  Avon  the  new  forest  stands 
lonely  and  silent.  The  river  runs  between,  dark  and  deep, 
always  flowing ;  season  after  season,  year  after  year,  age  • 
after  age,  flowing  on ;  an  emblem  of  permanence  and  of 
change. 

II. 

I  feel  like  labor.  Go  to !  I  will  spoil  this  beautiful  twi- 
light. —  Thomas,  bring  candles 

Now  comes  the  moth  to  seek  destruction  in  the  flame. 
Hark  :  the  cricket  is  chirping  its  unvaried  note  ;  the  nightin- 
gale whistles  his  sweet  but  melancholy  strain.  The  owl 
and  bat,  the  fire-fly  and  will-o'-the-wisp,  they  too  are  busy 
enough. 

Where  is  the  lively  squirrel  that  has  been  springing  all  day 
from  bough  to  bough  1  where  the  pigeon  and  the  hawk  ? 
where  the  lark  and  the  vulture,  the  linnet  and  the  eagle,  the 
coney  and  the  fox  ? 

The  snake  no  longer  glides  across  the  path,  and  the  toad 
has  found  a  resting-place.     But  the  owl  hoots  from  the  tree, 


20-1  SAINT  LEGER. 

and  the  bat  flits  crazily  through  the  gloaming ;  the  fire-fly 
and  will-o'-the-wisp  —  see  !  there  they  sparkle  and  flicker 
and  brighten  again  ! 

'•  Where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night?" 


III. 

Reader,  who  hast  borne  me  company  thus  far,  if  indeed 
you  have  entertained  a  sympathy  in  this  narrative,  then  let  us 
rest  a  moment  here. 

Perhaps  you  are  young,  and  if  you  are  young,  stand  up, 
and  bless  God  that  just  at  this  very  instant,  you  are  brought 
to  a  pause. 

Bring  out  your  hopes  and  look  at  them.  Look  at  them ; 
but  not  through  a  Claude-Lorraine  glass.  Look  at  them,  and 
tell  me,  do  they  belong  to  the  petty  future  of  earth,  or  to 
the  infinite  of  another  life  1  Can  you  not  answer  ]  Alas  ! 
what  an  unhappy  thought  that  you  know  not  yourself;  that 
you  should  be  always  journeying  on  with  —  a  stranger  — 
yourself  a  stranger  to  you,  and  you  a  stranger  to  yourself! 
an  awful  companionship.  Great  God,  what  if  you  be  destined 
to  live  thus  for  ever  ! 

Perhaps,  you  are  no  longer  young.  Nevertheless,  you 
have  hopes — yes,  hopes,  still. 

Bring  out  your  hopes  and  look  at  them.  Look  at  them  ; 
but  not  through  the  dark  vapor  of  disappointment  or  despair. 
Nay,  shake  not  your  head  so  gloomily :  but  arouse ;  and  do 
you  too  thank  God  that  you  are  brought  for  a  while  to  this 
stand-still,  as  the  world  rushes  on  and  leaves  you.  Do  not 
be  impatient  :  do  not  say  to  me,  "  Hands  off!  I  must  over- 
take my  comrades  yonder  ;  see  how  they  get  the  start  of  me." 
Stay,  something  better  is  in  store  for  you  than  this  unnatural 
race  which  you  are  running :  and  what  balm  is  there  in  that 


SAINT   LEGE  it.  305 

word  "  better  !"  Let  it  continue  always  better — and  bow 
will  you  approximate  by-and-by  to  tbe  TO  BEATIETON! 

Come,  tben,  youth  and  man  and  maiden;  come  and  sit 
down  with  me,  as  the  evening  deepens  into  night.  There  — 
I  have  put  out  the  candles  —  and  the  moth  is  safe. 

Let  us  bring  out  our  hopes  and  look  at  them.  Let  us  do 
it  in  a  cheerful,  hopeful,  heartfelt  way.  Thank  God  we  are 
here  yet,  safe  upon  the  earth ;  and  the  earth  does  seem  safe 
to  man ;  the  enduring  earth,  the  kind  mother,  the  patient 
nurse,  which  yields  us  sustenance  and  supports  our  life. 
While  we  talk  of  a  Beyond,  we  would  not  forget  thee,  pro- 
lific Parent,  with  thy  changing  seasons  ;  glorifying  and  renew- 
ing thy  days  in  the  hoar-frosts  of  winter,  in  the  balmy  breath 
of  spring,  in  the  triumphant  maturity  of  summer,  and  in  the 
fading  glories  of  the  fall.  Earth,  we  bless  thee.  Surely  we 
may  bless  thee,  if  the  Creator  pronounced  thee  good.  Shall 
we  not  forgive  thee  the  bearing  of  a  few  thorns  and  thistles 
for  all  the  fruit  which  we  have  pressed  from  thy  bosom,  or 
shall  we  complain,  that  in  the  sweat  of  our  face  we  have  to 
till  the  ground,  since  it  yieldeth  us  her  strength  by  tilling  ? 

But  to  our  hopes :  these  hopes  shall  indicate  our  destiny. 
Arrest  and  cut  off  all  that  are  anchored  here  ;  strip  the  heart 
of  the  vain  promptings  which  flutter  around  it ;  silence  the 
busy  whisperings  of  passion  and  self-love  ;  then  tell  me — 
youth,  man,  maiden  —  what  have  we  remaining?  Is  there  a 
void — an  utter  void — left  in  these  hearts  of  ours?  nothing 
possessed,  nothing  enjoyed,  no  residuum  but  the  bitter  ashes  ? 
Is  it  even  with  us  "  as  when  a  hungry  man  dreameth,  and  be- 
hold he  eateth  :  but  he  awaketh,  and  his  soul  is  empty  :  or  as 
when  a  thirsty  man  dreameth,  and  behold  he  drinketh ;  but 
he  awaketh,  and  behold  he  is  faint,  and  his  soul  hath  appetite  ?" 
Then  indeed  have  we  made  shipwreck  when  the  voyage  has 
scarce  commenced,  and  we  have  only  to  look  to  it  that  such 
20 


306  SAINT  LEGER. 

shipwreck  be  not  irreparable.  To  the  work — quick,  quick! 
that  the  voyage  may  not  be  lost. 

But  arrest  and  cut  off  and  silence  these  whisperings  and 
promptings  and  hopes,  and  do  our  hearts  still  beat  with  their 
usual  time  ?  Do  we  behold  a  broad  expanse  beyond  the  ex- 
treme limits  of  the  actual  %  Is  our  gaze  into  this  expanse 
only  rendered  brighter  and  clearer  by  the  cutting  away  of  the 
superfluous  foliage  %  and  can  we  with  a  lofty  look  and  cour- 
ageous heart  and  trustful  spirit,  lay  our  hands  upon  our  breast 
and  feel  the  Infinite  stirring  within  us  ?  Youth,  man,  maiden, 
I  give  you  joy  if  this  be  so ;  for  then  indeed  are  we  safe  ; 
safe,  though  the  possibilities  which  surround  us  are  fearful  to 
contemplate  ;  though  we  may  not  control  the  hour  or  the  cir- 
cumstance ;  though  grief  may  be  preparing  for  us  a  potion  in 
the  same  cup  from  which  we  have  drank  delights  and  joys ; 
though  everything  about  us  seem  dark  and  unpropitious ; 
though  everything  be  dark  and  unpropitious,  yet  are  we 
safe — safe. 

Farewell,  youth,  man,  maiden !  Perhaps  we  shall  meet  in 
another  world ;  perhaps  we  may  then  call  to  mind  how,  for  a 
few  moments,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Avon,  in  gentle  War- 
wickshire, we  stopped  and  communed  together. 

IV. 

What  had  become  of  Kauffmann  1  I  was  to  meet  him  on 
the  second  day  after  our  interview  ;  several  weeks  had  elapsed 
and  he  had  not  made  his  appearance.  At  first  I  wondered  at 
his  prolonged  absence,  but  I  soon  became  so  interested  in 
Wolfgang  Hegewisch  and  by  the  society  of  Theresa  Von 
Hofrath,  to  say  nothing  of  studies  which  I  pursued  systemat- 
ically under  the  learned  professor,  that  I  had  almost  forgotten 
Kauffmann,  and  his  company  of  Free  Speakers. 


SAINT  LEGER.  307 

One  morning  after  breakfast  I  was  seated  in  my  own  room. 
Whether  I  was  thinking  of  my  last  evening's  conversation 
with  Theresa,  or  of  the  Latin  thesis  upon  which  I  was  engaged, 
I  can  not  tell.  I  had  accomplished  little  or  nothing,  although 
I  had  been  an  hour  at  my  task.  My  door  was  open,  I  held 
my  pen  in  my  hand,  and  a  partly  finished  sentence,  began 
half  an  hour  before,  had  dried  in  upon  my  paper,  together 
with  sundry  attempted  continuations,  which  had  been  cor- 
rected, written  over,  and  dashed  out.  I  heard  a  step  upon 
the  stairway,  and  then  a  step  through  the  hall,  then  a  step 
into  my  room ;  a  bold,  manly,  hopeful,  straight-forward  step ; 
but  I  did  not  look  up,  I  did  not  feel  like  looking  up ;  for  just 
at  that  moment  the  strong  elastic  physique  of  the  step  was 
discordant  to  my  feelings ;  so  I  held  my  head  over  the  paper, 
brought  my  pen  to  a  line  with  the  sheet,  and  was  about  chang-  ■ 
ing  a  participle  into  a  gerund  by  way  of  emendation,  when  I 
received  a  friendly  blow  upon  the  shoulder,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  hand  was  held  out  for  me  to  shake.  Then  I  looked 
up  —  it  was  Friedrich  Kauffmann. 

"I  see  I  must  announce  myself — my  name  is  Kauffmann, 
once  a  friend  to  you " 

"  Now  a  friend  of  me,"  interrupted  I,  laughing.  "  How 
could  you  expect  to  be  recognised  after  running  away,  stay- 
ing away,  and  breaking  an  engagement  ?" 

"Spem  bonam  certamque  reporto," 

said  he,  in  a  cheerful  tone. 

"  Se  non  §  vero  e  ben  trovato," 

returned  I,  looking  him  full  in  the  face,  and  discovering  that 
hope  was  indeed  in  the  ascendant  there. 

"  How  you  are   metamorphosed ;    what  has  happened  to     . 
you  ?     Give  me  your  hand  again.     You  are  happier  than  you 


308  SAINT  LEGER. 

were ;  better  than  you  were,  your  mind  is  in  health ;  it  was 
not  in  health  when  we  separated.  Kauffmann,  I  rejoice  with 
you  ;  pray  tell  me  what  has  produced  this  change  V 

Kauffmann's  countenance  assumed  a  serious  expression. 
It  was  evident  he  had  something  to  communicate.  Shutting 
the  door,  he  proceeded  to  seat  himself  close  by  me. 

"  Saint  Leger,  I  have  settled  in  my  own  mind  a  matter  that 
has  always  perplexed  it." 

"  Well" 

"  It  is  the  relation  of  the  sexes  to  each  other." 

"Ay!" 

"  So  sure  am  I  that  I  am  right,  that  I  do  not  fear  to  tell  you 
all." 

"Pray  go  on." 

"  I  will.  Do  you  remember  our  last  discussion  ?  Do  you 
not  recollect  —  some  wizard  must  have  put  it  into  your  head 
—  you  told  me  I  had  had  in  my  time  a  love  affair,  and  had 
quarrelled  with  my  friend  because  she  would  not  yield  to  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Saint  Leger,  every  word  was  true ;  true  verbatim  et  liter- 
atim. And  had  you  struck  me  to  the  earth  I  should  not  have 
been  more  astounded. 

"  '  Surely,'  said  I,  '  something  must  be  wrong  in  what  I  have 
done,  if  a  mere  acquaintance  lights  upon  it  in  this  way.'  So 
I  went  home  and  locked  myself  into  my  room,  and  I  said,  after 
I  had  turned  the  key  :  '  Friedrich  Kauffmann,  thou  goest  not 
out  hence  till  thou  hast  sifted  thyself  as  wheat.  Self-confident 
though  thou  art,  thou  shalt  yield  if  thou  ought  to  yield  ;'  and 
I  communed  with  my  heart,  and  I  tried  to  commune  with 
God  ;  I  brought  to  mind  everything  that  took  place  at  that 
last  interview — that  unfortunate  interview,  between  Margaret 
and  myself.  I  weighed  everything  truthfully.  I  had  done 
the  same  before,  but  in  different  scales.     Then  I  thought  of 


SAINT  LEGER.  399 

creation  and  life,  and  happiness  and  unhappiness,  and  what 
should  cause  the  one  and  the  other  ;  and  I  asked  myself,  To  fit 
us  for  a  hei'eafter,  must  we  of  necessity  suffer  —  always  suffer  ? 
Dare  I  blame  my  Maker  before  I  have  searched  in  myself  for 
•;ause  of  censure?  And  so  I  came  —  standing  up  alone  be- 
fore God  —  to  believe,  and  to  feel,  and  to  know,  that  much  as 
I  had  loved  Margaret,  I  had  not  loved  her  aright,  or  thought 
of  her  aright,  or  treated  her  aright ;  and  then  a  new  light 
broke  in  upon  me,  and  I  unlocked  the  door  and  ran  out,  and 
earth  was  bright.  The  next  day  I  had  seen  Margaret  and  all 
was  explained." 

"But  the  relation  of  the  sexes'?"  said  I. 

"  I  intended  that  for  another  interview,  when  we  both  have 
more  leisure.     I  come  now  on  a  special. mission." 

"  Nay,  but  I  am  curious  to  have  a  synopsis  at  least  of  your 
theory." 

"  Very  briefly,  then,  it  is  this  :  The  most  perfect  spiritual 
happiness  consists  in  the  spiritual  union  of  a  man  and  woman, 
just  as  the  most  perfect  domestic  felicity  consists  in  a  well- 
adapted  temporal  union.  How  rare  y  are  both  kinds  blended ! 
How  are  we  taught,  from  youth  up,  that  man's  province  is 
command,  and  woman's  submission  !  Is  it  not  absolutely  ab- 
surd to  suppose  the  Creator  should  make  one  sex  to  be  in 
subjection  to  the  other]  the  good  God  to  ordain  and  perpet- 
uate an  eternal  tyranny !  Besides,  is  it  not  folly  to  suppose 
friendship  can  exist  except  between  beings  mutually  free  ? 
The  spiritual  union  makes  the  perfect  life.  And  there  can 
not  be  spiritual  union  where  one  spirit  is  the  master  spirit 
and  the  other  the  subservient  spirit.  I  spurn  the  cant  idea 
of  our  times,  that  difference  in  sex  is  an  organization  of  earth, 
with  reference  only  to  the  continuance  of  the  race.  So  sure 
as  there  is  another  life,  will  male  and  female  be  so  through 
eternity  ;  they  are  destined  to  seek  and  find  happiness  in  each 


310  SAINT  LEGER. 

other ;  together  to  fill  the  object  of  creation,  perfection  in 
unity.  But  I  can  stay  no  longer  at  present ;  I  came  to  en- 
gage you  for  this  evening." 

"  But  Margaret  and  yourself,  and  this  perfect  life,  including 
the  spiritual  and  the  domestic,  are  they  so  happily  blended 
that  you  have  no  fears  of  another " 

"  None ;  fellow-student,  none,"  interrupted  Kauftmann, 
rapidly.  "  Saint  Leger,  had  I  not  felt  sure  of  your  sympathy 
in  this  matter,  my  lips  had  been  closed,"  he  said,  suspiciously. 

"  You  have  it :  believe  me,  you  have  it,  my  friend.  And,  if 
your  theory  requires  a  little  more  perfect  development  at  your 
hands  before  I  embrace  it,  remember  I  am  not  the  less  re- 
joiced at  the  renewal  of  your  hopes." 

"  I  believe  you ;  take  my  hand ;  and  now  say,  will  you  be 
at  my  rooms  at  seven,  precisely  ?" 

"  For  what  ?" 

"  To  accompany  me  to  a  meeting  of  the  Free  Speakers." 

"  I  fear  I  must  decline  :  on  the  whole,  I  can  not  join  your 
company." 

"  Oh,  Father  Jupiter  ! 

'  Proh  superi !  quantum  mortalia  pectora  caecse 
Noctis  habent !' 

Who  asks  thee  to  join  us !  What  a  cautious,  calculating 
wretch  you  are.  But  you  are  an  Englishman,  and  I  will  not 
condemn  you  for  the  vandalism  that  is  part  of  your  nature. 
Know  then  that  I  have  obtained  the  consent  of  our  society, 
that  you,  undeserving  as  you  are,  should  be  present  on  one 
of  our  mystical  nights,  when  you  will  see  no  one  but  the 
scribe,  and  hear  all  that  your  ears  shall  catch.  This  is  a  dis- 
tinction never  before  granted  to  living  man.  By  Heaven,  we 
refused  Goethe  himself,  who  wanted,  as  a  matter  of  curiosity, 
to  be  present  on  one  occasion." 


SAINT  LEGER.  311 

"  Say  no  more ;  I  go,  and  thank  you,  upon  my  knees,  for 
the  privilege.     Will  that  do?" 

"  Yes.     Live  well." 

And  so  saying,  Friedrich  Kauffmann  left  the  apartment, 
with  the  same  elastic,  cheerful  step,  with  which  he  entered  it. 
I  rose,  and  looked  out  into  the  garden.  I  beheld  Theresa  in 
a  small  arbor,  engaged  in  securing  a  vine  which  had  broken 
loose  from  its  fastening.  Snatching  up  the  thesis,  I  tore  it  into 
a  hundred  pieces,  and  the  next  minute  I  was  assisting  Theresa 
to  train  the  vine. 


I  concluded  to  go  with  Kauffmann  to  the  "  mystical  meet- 
ing." At  the  appointed  hour  I  was  at  his  rooms,  and  we  set 
out  together. 

"  Have  you  no  instructions  to  give  me,"  said  I,  "  before  we 
enter  1     How  am  I  to  act]  —  what  shall  I  do?" 

"  You  are  not  to  act,  and  you  are  to  do  nothing  but  listen 
with  all  your  ears." 

"And  what  is  the  meaning  of  '  mystical  night'  1  " 

"  The  night  when  we  speak  '  unsight,  unseen,'  and  treat 
generally  of  hidden  things.  We  then  venture  often  upon 
daring  suggestions,  not  to  say  assertions,  believing  that  some 
truth  will  be  heaved  up  among  the  error." 

"  But  who  is  truth-sifter  to  the  society  V 

"  Hush  !  we  shall  get  into  a  discussion,  and  it  will  spoil  my 
sybiline  tranquillity.  Besides,  here  we  are  at  the  door.  Go 
in  at  the  entrance ;  you  are  expected.  You  will  find  the 
scribe  in  his  seat,  and  a  vacant  chair  for  you  ;  take  it,  and  say 
nothing." 

"  But  you  ?" 

"  I  enter  from  another  direction.  You  will  not  see  me 
again  to-night.     Farewell." 


312 


SAINT  LEGER. 


VI. 

I  pushed  through  the  door,  and  found  myself  in  a  dark, 
narrow  passage.  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  stumble  along  till 
I  came  to  the  end  of  it,  which  I  did  presently,  and  discovering 
another  door,  I  opened  that,  and  found  myself  in  a  room  of 
moderate  size,  tolerably  well  lighted,  containing  twelve  little 
chapels  or  recesses,  across  which  curtains  were  suspended 
from  the  ceiling,  so  that  the  occupant  could  remain  unseen. 

In  the  centre  sat  the  scribe,  with  a  large  book  upon  a  desk 
before  him.  Near  him  was  a  vacant  chair,  the  only  one  to  be 
seen.  I  marched  in  and  took  my  seat,  with  as  much  nonchal- 
ance of  manner  as  I  could  assume.  The  scribe  did  not  ap- 
pear to  observe  my  entrance  ;  he  did  not  look  up,  or  alter  a 
muscle  of  his  countenance.  Not  supposing  that  I  was  literal- 
ly limited  to  the  use  of  my  ears,  I  took  the  liberty  of  casting 
my  eyes  around  this  strange  apartment.  Directly  over  the 
door  at  which  1  entered  was  inscribed,  in  large  letters  : 

"Wmlfy  •*" 

Upon  the  wall  opposite  the  door  was  the  following : 


ELEMENTS. 

NATURE. 

COMPLEXION. 

PLANETS. 

Water. 
Fire. 
Earth. 
Air. 

Cold  and  moist. 
Hot  and  dry. 
Cold  and  dry. 
Hot  and  moist. 

Phlegm. 
Choler. 
Melancholy. 
Sanguine. 

Venus  and  Mars. 
Sol  and  Mars. 
Saturn  and  Mercury. 
Jupiter. 

Over  the  scribe's  table  I  read : 

€)hasttUitt,  gsaphhn,  <£i)atumim,  ^aecaspinm,  ©fajarim. 
<kul  contemplation*  crcaturarttm  rojjnoblt  twatorem. 


SAINT  LEGER.  313 

There  was  also  an  inscription  at  the  top  of  the  curtains, 
over  each  recess,  such  as: 

Renounce— 3-lenounce. 

Hobc,  but  torsive  not. 

35nfo£,  but  seek  not  to  possess. 

33 e  tranquil  — be  tranquil. 

©rapnle  bit!)  ana  unmasfc  yourself. 

Bare  to  be  tuisc. 

Kotijincj  toitfjout  its  cquibalent. 

3Ebcr»  action  sijall  ijai$e  its  recompense. 

jEbcrg  proceDure  sijall  fiabe  its  binoication. 

SUtoaijs  a  result. 

aire  j?ou  contented  toitij  jjourselt? 

3-t  bJill  be  tije  same  storn  to=morroto. 

Looking  through  the  room,  1  could  see  nothing  hut  the 
curtains  hefore  the  recesses,  the  scribe,  and  the  scribe's  desk. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  mystical  meeting  commenced  by  the 
scribe's  striking  upon  the  desk  with  a  small  hammer.  I  was 
all  attention,  and  prepared  to  take  my  friend's  advice  and  use 
my  ears.  Presently  a  voice  was  heard  from  behind,  one  of 
the  curtains : 

First  Voice  :  No  one  can  be  better  than  the  being  he 
worships ;  therefore  worship  the  Perfect  Being. 

Second  Voice  :  He  who  fulfils  what  he  designs  not,  is  a 
machine ;  he  who  fulfils  not  what  he  designs,  is  a  driveller. 

Third  Voice  :  Deity  can  not  sin,  because  Deity  can  not  be 
tempted.  For  with  what  could  Deity  be  tempted?  What 
could  Deity  gain  by  sinning  ?  Man,  poor  wretch !  is  badly 
enough  off:  he  carries  both  Deity  and  devil  in  his  bosom. 
He  has  every  temptation  to  sin,  and  every  inducement  to 
keep  from  sin.  The  temptation  is  pressing,  close  at  hand  ; 
the  inducement   is  weak,  afar  off.     Therefore  a   man  who  in 


314  SAINT  LEGER. 

the  midst  of  besetting  temptations  still  preserves  Ins  integri- 
ty, is  the  greatest  possible  object  of  moral  contemplation. 

Fourth  Voice  :  True  enough.  For  angels  are  but  milk- 
sops, alter  all.  An  angel  would  be  all  the  better  for  a  good 
night's  carouse  in  honest  Moritz's  wine-cellar ;  even  to  the 
ruffling  of  some  of  his  feathers.  What  a  sorry  appearance, 
though,  would  the  dreadful  next  morning  bring  !  But  your 
Man  —  he  is  the  creature  ! 

Fifth  Voice  :  And  your  devil  is  more  of  a  milk-and-water 
affair  than  your  angel.  One  looks  on,  smiling  and  good-tem- 
pered ;  the  other,  grinning,  and  grimacing,  and  whimpering 
—  an  inverted  dog-in-the-manger;  caught  himself,  he  snarls 
because  everything  created  is  not  caught.  Verily,  the  devil 
is  a  milk-sop. 

Sixth  Voice  :  No  more,  gentlemen,  of  what  does  not  con- 
cern us.  I  would  speak  of  man.  God  created  man  perfect. 
The  Tempter  gave  him  a  hint  of  the  pleasure  of  sin  ;  man 
took  the  hint,  yielded  to  the  Tempter,  and  gulped  sin  like  a 
flood.  A  perfect  being  could  not  have  yielded ;  therefore 
God  did  not  create  man  perfect,  for  he  carried  within  him  the 
elements  of  imperfection  :  the  power  to  sin. 

Seventh  Voice  :  That  is  masterly  !  Now  let  us  know  for 
whose  sake  was  man  made ;  for  the  sake  of  God  the  creator, 
or  for  the  sake  of  man  the  created  1  If  the  former,  it  seems 
to  have  been  a  bungling  piece  of  business ;  if  the  latter,  why 
worry  the  poor  devil  with  your  moral  salves  and  cataplasms, 
your  nostrums,  salts,  and  smelling-bottles  ]  Let  him  have  his 
own  way  if  a  free  agent :  and  beyond  all,  let  him  have  his 
own  way  of  having  his  own  way,  say  I. 

Eighth  Voice  :  Gentlefolks,  pray  forbear ;  we  are  cer- 
tainly getting  beyond  o\ir  depth.  We  shall  have  to  mount 
stills  at  this  rate.  Therefore  seek  helps.  Remember  the 
proverb :  "  A  dwarf  on  the  shoulders  of  a  giant  can  see  far- 
ther than  the  giant  himself." 


SAINT  LEGER.  315 

Ninth  Voice  :  Still,  let  me  be  the  giant.  I  would  find 
another  giant,  and  mount  him. 

Tenth  Voice  :  Verily,  this  is  a  strange  assemblage  !  Be- 
hold an  illustration  of  the  old  saying  :  "  Children,  fools,  and 
drunken  men,  speak  truth." 

Eleventh  Voice  :  How  of  drunken  men  1 

Tenth  Voice  :  "  In  vino  Veritas." 

Twelfth  Voice  :  I  am  truth  !  I  am  pale  and  slender,  but 
unchangeable  ;  I  am  poor,  needy,  and  a  wanderer ;  I  can 
promise  nothing,  for  nothing  comes  of  promises.  Whoso 
gives  me  shelter  gains  nothing  here ;  nay,  he  loses  much :  the 
excitement  of  false  images,  false  shows,  false  honors,  false 
symbols,  false  words,  false  deeds.  The  man  who  shelters  me 
must  lose  all  this. 

First  Voice  :  A  word,  neighbor,  about  this  same  truth. 
Why  is  this  commodity  subject  to  so  much  alloy,  when  of  all 
commodities  it  is  most  injured  by  alloy  ?  Why  is  it  necessary 
to  make  truth  palatable  by  a  seasoning  of  make-believes  ? 
Why  is  it  considered  a  mark  of  wisdom  to  conceal  our 
thoughts,  and  a  mark  of  folly  to  expose  them  ?  Why  is  it,  as 
our  brother  has  said,  that  but  three  classes  stand  charged  with 
telling  truth  :  children,  fools,  and  drunken  men? 

Second  Voice  :  I  will  have  none  of  you,  Mistress  Truth ! 
What  could  I  do  with  you,  naked  as  you  come  to  me  ?  Clothe 
yourself  with  the  befitting  and  graceful  drapery  of  prevarica- 
tion, and  you  may  perhaps  pass  current  with  us.  But  to  take 
you  as  you  are  —  I  would  as  soon  walk  about  naked  myself. 

Third  Voice  :  Nay,  but  strip  man  of  all  his  vanities,  and 
what  is  he  ?  Take  from  him  what  sin  has  entailed  upon  him, 
and  what  is  he  ?  Relieve  him  from  the  care  of  maintaining 
life ;  the  care  of  providing  clothes,  food,  and  a  place  to  sleep, 
to  eat,  and  to  rest  in ;  the  care  of  preserving  life  and  of  en- 
joying life  ;  from  education,  and  the  need  of  education ;  and 


316  SAINT  LEGER. 

you  arrest  all  the  busy  occupations  of  humanity,  and  make 
man 

Fourth  Voice  (interrupting) :  Go  on,  brother ;  work  away 
at  man ;  you  have  but  just  began.  Strip  him  of  all  his  van- 
ities ;  strip  him  of  his  follies  ;  strip  him  of  his  deceits ;  strip 
him  of  his  pretences  and  his  shows ;  strip  him  of  his  feelings  ; 
strip  him  of  his  thoughts  ;  strip  him  of  himself — then  what  is 
he  1  Pshaw  !  man  is  as  his  Creator  intended  him  to  be  ;  a 
capital  chap,  after  all,  is  man.  Go  on  and  prosper,  mad 
fellow ! 

Fifth  Voice  :  Not  so  fast :  cease  this  trifling,  and  be  seri- 
ous, for  the  feelings  we  are  now  cherishing  are  defining  the 
spiritual  world  in  which  we  shall  live  for  ever. 

Sixth  Voice  :  True.  How  many  lives  are  going  on  at  this 
moment  together — how  many  hearts  are  now  beating  with  a 
stirring  selfishness  ! 

Seventh  Voice  :  And  the  man  who  revolves  about  himself 
as  a  centre  is  a  lost  man. 

Eighth  Voice  :  Why  are  you  not  better  1 

Ninth  Voice  :  Why  am  I  not  worse  1     Answer  me  that ! 

Tenth  Voice  ;  After  all,  is  there  not  something  unendur- 
able in  man's  condition  1  —  groaning  under  laws  which  he  had 
no  voice  in  enacting,  and  forced  to  live  with  instincts,  and  pas- 
sions, and  desires,  and  impulses,  which  he  had  no  agency  in 
creating.     Surely  man  is  not  himself. 

Eleventh  Voice  :  Hearken  to  me.  You  err  greatly. 
Man  may  or  may  not  be  himself;  but  man  is  only  himself 
when  necessity  no  longer  binds  him ;  but  necessity  always 
binds  the  sensuous  man.  It  is  when  his  moral  nature  asserts 
its  superiority  that  man  fears  no  necessity ;  for  he  rises  supe- 
rior to  necessity. 

Twelfth  Voice  :   Well  spoken. 


SAINT  LEGER.  317 


VII. 


I  have  put  down  enough  of  what  passed  at  the  mystical 
meeting  of  the  Free  Speakers,  to  convey  some  idea  of  their 
proceedings ;  these  went  on  without  intermission  for  two 
hours,  during  which  the  wildest  ideas  were  started,  while  of- 
ten the  best  sentiments  were  uttered.  The  medley  was  truly 
an  odd  one.  At  length  the  scribe  struck  with  his  hammer 
upon  the  desk.  Silence  succeeded.  The  scribe  then  rose, 
and  turned  to  leave  the  room.  As  a  matter  of  prudence,  I 
thought  it  best  to  follow ;  so  I  pushed  on  after  him,  but  he 
disappeared  at  a  side-door.  [  marched  straight  into  the  street. 
And  thus  ended  my  first  and  last  visit  to  the  Mystical  Society 
of  the  Free  Speakers  of  Leipsic. 


VIII. 

Say  what  we  may,  assume  what  we  please,  as  to  the  relative 
position  of  man  and  woman,  it  is  an  important  era  in  our  lives 
(I  speak  for  my  kind)  when  we  first  begin,  not  only  to  be  sus- 
ceptible to  female  influence,  but  to  require  it  as  a  want  of  the 
soul.  For  it  is  then  that  the  errors  of  the  heart  levy  their  first 
fearful  contribution,  to  be  continued  through  all  time,  and,  for 
aught  I  know,  through  all  beyond.  It  is  then  that  the  passions 
are  either  brought  into  subjection  or  become  tyrants,  and  lead 
perhaps  to  interminable  perdition.  Certain  it  is,  at  all  events, 
that  there  are  wonderful  changes  in  his  spiritual  relations,  un- 
seen it  may  be,  but  none  the  less  real,  which  man  owes  to  the 
influence  of  woman. 

It  is  not  easy  to   describe  this  influence,  for  we  lack  the 


318  SAINT  LEGER. 

psychological  terms  by  which  to  describe  it.  It  is  not  objec- 
tive, positive,  or  opposing,  but  rather  pervading ;  entering 
upon  the  slightest  occasion  into  the  inner  sanctuary  of  the 
soul,  and  purifying  by  its  presence  the  whole  inner  life. 

Take,  for  example,  a  happy  surprise.  You  come  unex- 
pectedly upon  one  you  love  —  perhaps  you  have  not  acknowl- 
edged to  yourself  that  you  do  love  —  and  feel  a  delicious, 
thrilling,  quickening  of  the  heart.  To  this  succeeds  tranquil- 
lity and  a  subdued  happiness,  while  you  are  sensible  that  there 
is  a  mysterious  something  which  surrounds  your  friend,  as 
with  a  soft,  delightful  zephyr.  It  meets  you,  fills  you,  and 
leads  you  captive.  You  linger,  enchained  by  a  spell  which 
you  have  no  desire  to  break,  and  everything  is  forgotten  in 
the  absorbing  delight  of  that  moment.  Now  I  care  not  how 
depraved  the  man  may  be,  I  care  not  how  sensual,  how  deeply 
8teeped  in  sin :  for  the  time  being,  and  while  under  such  an 
influence,  he  is  pure.  It  may  not  be  lasting,  but  for  the  mo- 
ment this  influence  is  effectual. 

Can  we  explain  this  magnetism  1  No,  nor  can  we  explain, 
although  we  may  understand,  the  same  power  in  its  higher  and 
more  important  relations. 

This  much  I  had  written,  almost  unconsciously,  after  glan- 
cing over  the  account  of  my  interview  with  Kauffmann.  It 
fell  from  me  like  a  soliloquy,  yet  I  hesitate  to  erase  it :  on  the 
whole,  I  will  let  it  remain. 

As  for  myself,  the  influence  of  the  sex  upon  me  began 
early  and  has  continued  —  always.  Whether  or  not  it  was 
peculiar,  the  leader  may  judge.  I  will  to  speak  truth  of  my- 
self. God  only  knows  (I  say  it  with  reverence)  how  difficult 
is  the  task ;  for  it  is  not  every  one  who  is  familiar  with  his 
own  experience. 


SAINT  LEGER.  3J9 


IX. 


I  find  it  difficult,  in  this  part  of  my  narrative,  to  select 
from  the  many  interesting  occurrences  which  transpired  dur- 
ing my  stay  at  Leipsic,  those  which  had  a  controlling  influence 
over  me.  Unless,  however,  I  adhere  to  my  resolution  of  de- 
tailing these  alone,  I  shall  swell  my  MS.  to  an  inconvenient 
size. 


X. 

Day  after  day  the  glories  of  my  new  philosophy  faded 
gradually  away,  while  I  no  longer  experienced  the  sustaining 
power  of  my  former  belief.  Still,  I  was  not  altogether  be- 
yond its  reach.  Unconsciously  I  found  myself  falling  back 
upon  the  truths  of  revelation,  while  at  times  the  remembrance 
of  a  mother's  prayers  and  earnest  exhortations  came  over  me 
with  such  force  that  I  was  melted  to  tears.  But  these  were 
momentary  influences.  My  general  state  of  mind  was  chaotic. 
To  be  sure,  the  instruction  I  gained  in  my  several  studies 
was  not  lost  upon  me ;  but  it  did  not  reach  my  heart. 

I  had  confided  in  Theresa,  and  that  saved  me.  How  little 
I  felt  this  at  the  time  !  how  little  indeed  do  we  ever  feel  the 
importance  of  events  while  they  are  taking  place  !  And  do 
you  account  it  puerile,  this  confiding  that  I  speak  of?  Are 
you  made  of  such  stern  stuff  that  you  can  not  understand  it  ? 
Look  back  a  little  ;  turn  your  heart  inside  out,  and  see  if  you 
can  not  find  the  remains — perhaps  scorched  to  ashes,  but 
still  the  remains  —  of  some  such  feelings.  Withered,  blasted 
suppressed,  neglected,  trampled  on,  they  may  be  ;  but  they 


320  8AINT  LEGER- 

have  been  there.  And  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that  what 
seems  now  so  insignificant  in  your  eyes  will  one  day  assume 
an  air  of  imposing  magnitude,  and  what  seems  now  so  vast 
and  important  will  presently  dwarf  into  mere  littleness  % 

From  Theresa — the  spiritual,  heaven-minded  Theresa — I 
learned  the  value  of  the  practical.  "Without  her  appear- 
ing in  the  least  aware  of  it,  Theresa's  soul  had  upon  mine 
a  remarkable  effect.  During  my  various  occupations,  amid 
the  changes  of  the  new  life  I  was  leading,  in  moments  of 
weakness  and  temptation,  in  times  of  depression  and 
exaltation,  in  all  these,  dear  Theresa,  thou  wert  my  safe- 
guard and  my  life.  Instead  of  her  spirit  reposing  upon  mine, 
my  spirit  found  repose  in  hers.  I  began  by  degrees  to  think 
more  of  what  Kauffmann  had  said.  I  felt  that  I  had  within 
me  a  strength  of  soul  and  purpose  able  to  cope  with  the 
mighty ;  yet  I  daily  renewed  my  strength  from  the  heart  of 
that  young  girl  ! 

Yes,  in  my  struggles  after  a  healthful  state  of  life — I  say 
it  with  truth  —  Theresa  Von  Hofrath  was  my  chief,  perhaps, 
sole  assistant ;  and  this,  apparently,  without  any  design.  There 
was  a  charm  in  her  very  being  which  touched  and  swayed 
and  subdued  me. 

But  how  shall  express  my  feelings  for  Theresa  !  May  I 
not  better  say  T  had  no  feelings  for  her  !  she  was  not  so  much 
a  particular  object  of  thought  and  attention  ;  she  rather  gave 
life  and  tone  and  character  to  all  my  thoughts.  What  liberty 
is  to  a  people,  she  was  to  me.  As  liberty  is  nothing  positive, 
but  only  a  favorable  status,  so  the  influence  of  Theresa  pro- 
duced in  me  a  moral  status,  of  a  nature  best  adapted  to  the 
circumstances  by  which  I  was  surrounded.  What  was  de- 
veloped by  all  this  we  shall  see. 


SAINT  LEGER.  321 


XI. 


After  a  full  deliberation ;  after  patiently  wearing  out  a 
twelvemonth  in  bewildering  my  brain  with  German  meta- 
physics ;  after  listening  to  lecture  upon  lecture,  and  system 
upon  system  ;  I  concluded  deliberately  and  decidedly,  that 
my  sojourn  in  Leipsic  had  not  brought  about,  and  would  not 
bring  about,  the  desired  result. 

I  had  come  to  Germany  a  demi-god.  My  watchwords 
were,  "no  subservience  to  opinion,"  "no  limits  to  human 
wisdom,"  "  consult  Nature  in  all  her  modes,"  and  so  forth. 
My  mouth  was  filled  with  vain  arguments  ;  for  vain  I  knew 
them  to  be  ;  that  is,  I  felt  a  consciousness,  in  that  loiver  deep 
below  the  lowest  deep,  that  I  was  all  wrong;  that  I  was 
dreaming,  and  should  one  day  awake  to  a  sense  of  my  real 
condition.  Then  when  I  came  among  the  learned  doctors,  and 
lecturers,  and  schoolmen  —  solemn  mockers  and  grave  triflers 
—  and  found  how  they  were  all  pulling  and  turning  and  mys- 
tifying, with  their  =  +  and  — ,  1=1,  and  "no  man  must 
must'"  —  when  I  found  that  my  old  question  was  not  answer- 
ed, and  no  result  came  of  all  this  foolery — I  felt  assured  that 
I  had  missed  my  mark.  From  this  I  sometimes  found  relief 
in  taking  up  a  volume  of  my  Lord  Bacon.  Often  could  I 
clear  my  brain  from  the  mists  that  thickened  around  it  by 
perusing  the  plain  and  intelligible  lessons  of  wisdom  which 
that  mighty  mind  had  left  to  the  world.  In  the  same  way  I 
could  shut  out  strange  visions  of  the  frightful  demons  of  the 
Hartz — those  hideous  and  unnatural  creations  of  the  German 
poets — by  reading  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  or  the 
Masque  of  Comus.  In  Germany  I  learned  to  appreciate  the 
philosophy  and  the  poetry  of  my  own  land. 
21 


322  SAINT  LEGER. 


XIT. 

I  kept  on  studying,  and  perplexing  my  brain.  Besides  the 
public  lectures,  I  continued  to  enjoy  the  private  instruction 
of  Von  Hofrath ;  and  his  lessons  were  not  of  a  nature  to  be 
forgotten.  But  lectures  and  lessons  were  not  what  I  desired 
—  were  not  what  I  needed.  As  I  have  said,  after  I  had  been 
in  Leipsic  a  twelvemonth,  I  still  found  that  what  troubled  me 
in  England  troubled  me  in  Germany  :  the  actual,  the  prac- 
tical, the  ivhat  and  the  why.  The  students  made  no  advance, 
it  seemed  to  me,  in  these.  Each  professor  had  a  theory  of 
his  own  and  powerfully  advocated  it.  At  times  I  almost  pined 
for  my  English  home,  and  for  English  scenes.  I  recollected 
the  matter-of-fact  events  of  my  life  with  the  greatest  pleasure, 
and  called  to  mind,  with  surprising  minuteness,  the  associa- 
tions of  my  childhood.  When  I  thought  of  my  former  feel- 
ings, and  contrasted  them  with  my  present  bewildered  state, 
which  was  becoming  daily  more  bewildered,  I  decided  that  I 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  throw  my  philosophy  overboard,  and 
take  in  for  ballast  what  I  best  could. 

Thus  from  a  religiously  educated  youth  I  became  a  free- 
thinker, and  from  a  free-thinker  I  came  to  be  a  kind  of 
worldling.  All  this  time,  I  believe  I  earnestly  desired  to 
think  aright  ;  and  so  far  as  my  actions  were  concerned,  I  had 
no  special  reason  to  reproach  myself.  After  all,  my  spirit 
experienced  some  relief  from  being  let  down  from  the  clouds, 
even  at  the  risk  of  grovelling  on  the  earth.  So  I  determined 
to  give  up  the  chase  after  an  unintelligible  mysticism,  al- 
though I  should  be  accused  of  falling  from  my  high  estate, 
and  of  exhibiting  a  low  and  unworthv  degradation. 


SAINT  LEGER. 


323 


The  professor,  who  had  taken  care  not  to  dictate  to  me 
during  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  my  transition  state,  watch- 
ed this  change  with  interest.  He  regarded  me,  in  a  degree, 
as  a  skilful  and  experienced  physician  regards  a  patient  who, 
though  apparently  sick  unto  death,  he  feels  confident  will  at 
length  rally  under  judicious  treatment.  Herr  Von  Hofrath 
was  too  sagacious  a  minister  to  the  mind  diseased  to  interfere 
with  a  rule  equally  applicable  to  soul  and  body  —  wait  on 
Nature.  His.  motto  was,  assist  where  you  can,  but  be  sure  you 
do  not  retard  by  injudicious  interference.  When  I  was  ready  to 
condemn  my  whole  routine  of  labors,  he  would  say,  compla- 
cently :  "  Well,  well ;  it  is  something  to  have  got  so  far  as 
that ;  but  not  too  fast ;  take  care  lest  while  you  gather  up  the 
tares  you  root  up  also  the  wheat  with  them." 

-Especially,"  I  would  add,  "  if  I  can  not  tell  the  tares  from 
the  wheat." 

"  By  their  fruit  ye  shall  know  them  ;  therefore  wait." 

"  How  long?" 

"  Till  you  have  done  asking  questions.  Now  come  with 
me ;  I  am  reading  Shakspere's  King  John.  I  wish  to  use 
your  copy.     Come,  you  shall  read  to  me." 

Such  was  the  considerate  manner  of  the  professor  during 
this  miserable  period  of  my  life. 


XIII. 

Theresa,  always  sweet  and  gentle,  grew  even  more  sweet 
and  gentle  when  she  perceived  my  restlessness  and  discon- 
tent. Every  word  she  uttered  came  from  her  heart,  and  her 
heart  always  beat  true.  She  would  assure  me  with  so  much 
confidence  that  I  should  yet  enjoy  peace  of  mind,  she  would 
calm  my  impatience  with  so  much  tenderness,  that  I  almost 
believed  her. 


324  SAINT  LEGER. 

How  shall  I  picture  Theresa  as  I  wish?  To  do  this  I 
should  detail  exactly  what  passed  between  us.  I  acknowl- 
edge that  I  can  not  perform  the  task.  The  scenes  glide 
away,  and  I  can  not  grasp  them.  When  I  would  do  so,  Pro- 
teus-like, they  change  and  fade  and  vanish  altogether. 

Something  out  of  ourselves  engrossed  us  always,  and  the 
hours  passed  imperceptibly.  As  the  strong  ask  not  them- 
selves whether  they  are  in  health,  so  it  never  occurred  to  us 
to  ask  if  we  were  happy.  What  a  character  was  hers  !  She 
had  no  bashful  timidity,  yet  a  rare  appreciation  of  what  be- 
longed to  her  sex.  She  was  so  truthful  and  so  earnest  that 
she  stopped  just  this  side  of  heroism;  she  was  not  an  en- 
thusiast either  :  she  was  too  thoughtful,  too  gentle,  too  con- 
siderate. 

Theresa  and  I  were  friends.  If  friends,  what  had  we  in 
common  1  A  desire  for  happiness.  So  we  talked  and  walk- 
ed and  read  and  studied  together.  But  we  never  spoke  of 
the  feelings  we  entertained  of  each  other.  I  doubt  if  we 
did  entertain  feelings  to  speak  of;  had  we  done  so,  the  uni- 
versal soul-pervading  influence  of  her  spiritual,  would  have 
been  narrowed  down  to  the  individual  and  the  positive.  Then 
we  should  have  been  in  love  ;  in  love  :  a  specious  term,  which, 
like  the  paradise  of  fools,  has  never  been  bounded  or  defined. 
Not  that  I  disbelieve  in  the  phrase,  but  what  to  believe  in  it  I 
do  not  exactly  know.  That  true  love  can  exist  without 
friendship  is  impossible  :  indeed  I  believe  that  it  must  rest  up- 
on friendship  or  it  will  die.  And  friendship  can  be  predi- 
cated only  of  hearts  which  are  congenial,  whose  currents  flow 
and  harmonize  together. 

But  to  return.  The  idea  of  loving  Theresa  —  as  the  word 
is  usually  employed  —  of  claiming  her  for  mine  and  mine  on- 
ly, was  what  I  never  thought  of,  and  if  I  had  thought  of  it, 
the  idea  would  have  distressed  me.     No :  much  as  we  were 


SAINT  LEGER.  325 

thrown  together  —  and  our  communion  was  uninterrupted — I 
never  entertained  a  wish  that  Theresa  should  be  to  me  more 
than  she  then  was.  The  thought  of  drawing  her  to  myself 
and  calling  her  mine  only,  seemed  sacrilege.  Was  our  com- 
panionship then  so  entirely  spiritual  1  It  seems  so ;  and 
when  I  thought  of  it  I  believed  I  had  divined  what  Kauffmann 
labored  so  hard  upon  :  "  The  true  relation  of  the  sexes."  I 
began  to  think  that  the  world  had  gone  on  hitherto  all  wrong ; 
that  the  social  condition  of  man  was  founded  upon  error,  and 
that  a  false  idea  of  this  relation  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trouble.  I  said  to  myself,  if  in  the  resurrection  they  neither 
marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage,  why  may  there  not  be  ex- 
amples of  the  same  spiritual  companionship  here  on  the  earth  ? 
and  why  should  not  such  examples  become  universal  1 

In  this  way  my  ideas  wandered,  resting  first   on  one  hypo- 
thesis, then  on  another,  while  my  opinions  continued  unsettled. 


XIV. 

But,  shall  I  confess  it,  there  were  times  when  in  the  society 
of  Theresa,  my  heart  craved  something  different  from  her; 
when  I  yearned  for  the  mortal  Psyche ;  when  the  Venus 
Aphrodite,  not  the  Venus  Urania,  seemed  to  inspire  me.  I 
pined  for  some  exquisite  "  creature  of  earth's  mould,"  who 
should  unite  purity  with  her  mortality,  who  should  possess 
the  embroidered  girdle  which  fills  the  beholder  with  love  and 
desire,  who  should  excite  feelings  entirely  different  from 
those  I  entertained  toward  Theresa.  Some  being  who  should 
realize  to  me  the  happiness  of  an  earthly  passion,  and  afford 
the  enjoyment  of  an  interested  affection. 

At  length  I  longed  to  love  as  the  children  of  earth  love. 

And  this  longing,  did  it  make  any  difference  in  my  feelings 
for  Theresa  ?     None  whatever.     She  was  still  the  same   to 


326  SAINT  LEGER. 

me.  In  these  new  heart  developments  her  influence  was  as 
effectual  as  it  ever  had  been.  It  softened  and  purified  and 
spiritualized  these  very  earthly  longings,  it  neither  destroyed 
nor  suppressed  them. 

As  for  Theresa  herself,  notwithstanding  all  our  intercourse, 
I  never  could  get  quite  to  the  bottom  of  her  heart.  I  know 
not  what  I  should  have  found  there  ;  but  sometimes  I  thought 
the  discovery  would  make  me  happy. 


XV. 

Returning  one  afternoon  from  the  town,  I  found  a  note 
traced  in  a  female  hand,  requesting  me  to  come  to  the  lodgings 
of  Wolfgang  Hegewisch.  Since  the  interview  in  which  he  had 
given  me  his  history  I  had  been  frequently  to  see  him.  At 
times  I  found  him  convalescing,  and  again,  worse  ;  he  was 
however  evidently  growing  weaker,  and  I  watched  him  with 
much  solicitude.  When  he  desired  me  to  stay  I  remained, 
and  when  he  was  not  in  the  mood  for  conversation  I  shorten- 
ed my  visits.  By  thus  humoring  his  feelings,  my  society  be- 
gan, as  I  thought,  to  have  a  happy  effect  upon  him.  The 
last  time  I  had  seen  him,  he  seemed  in  better  spirits  than  usual, 
and  a  natural  cheerfulness  of  manner  prevailed,  which  com- 
pletely metamorphosed  the  unfortunate  misanthrope.  I  could 
not  help  remarking  to  Hegewisch  the  agreeable  change. 

"Yes,  my  friend,"  replied  he,  "I  have  changed;  thank 
God,  my  deliverance  is  near." 

"  What  do  you  mean  V 

He  put  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  shook  his  head,  and  with  a 
faint  but  not  mournful  smile  replied  : 

"  Something  here  tells  me  that  a  few  days  will  release  me 
from  the  world.  Is  not  that  a  cause  for  cheerfulness  1  Of 
late    mv   mind   has  been  clearer.     I  owe   vou  much  for  it. 


SAINT  LEGER  327 

I  have  looked  over  my  life  and  feel  that  since  that  fearful 
event,  a  frenzy  has  possessed  me.  "What  I  have  done,  what 
I  have  said,  what  I  have  thought,  in  that  frenzy,  I  scarcely 
know,  but  I  am  confident  my  Maker  will  not  hold  me  ac- 
countable for  it.  I  have  considered  lately  that,  since  I  can 
look  only  upon  the  course  of  events  as  they  happen  on  the 
earth,  and  do  not  know  what  will  be  the  administration  of 
things  hereafter,  I  have  not  regarded  the  whole  circumference 
of  my  being,  and  that  I  have  complained  too  soon.  Do  you 
wonder,  after  what  I  have  experienced,  that,  now  my  brain 
is  clear  and  my  mind  calm,  death  should  be  a  great  release 
to  me." 

"  No." 

"You  speak  like  a  friend;  without  affectation,  but  with 
kindness.  Hear  me.  I  shall  never  leave  this  room.  But  I . 
would  bid  the  world  farewell  with  cheerfulness  and  with 
dignity  ;  resignation  I  have  not  to  practise.  The  days  of  my 
youth  return  to  me,  and  I  feel  that  innocent  buoyancy  of 
heart  which  I  used  to  enjoy.  Does  this  not  betoken  a  happy 
future  ?  Were  not  the  words  of  my  Meta  prophetic  1  A  few 
days  and  I  shall  know.  I  have  sent  for  my  mother.  She 
will  be  here  to-night.  My  kind  physician — my  father's  tried 
friend  —  is  already  here;  he  insists  upon  remaining  with  me 
although  he  admits  that  there  is  no  hope.  I  would  bid  you 
adieu.  You  touched  my  heart  when  I  believed  it  lifeless. 
You  have  befriended  me  much  every  way.  Would  that  I 
could  befriend  you  in  return.  Listen  to  me.  Leave  this 
place  ;  break  oft"  your  present  mode  of  life.  You  think  too 
much,  you  do  not  perform,  although  performance  is  your 
province.  You  will  become  crazed  here ;  you  know  enough 
of  books,  at  least  for  the  present ;  strike  out  into  the  world ; 
interest  yourself  in  its  pursuits ;  mingle  in  practical  life  even 
at  the  expense  of  mingling  in   its  follies.     Return  to  free, 


328  SAINT    LEGER. 

happy  England.  You  can  serve  your  fellow  men  in  some 
way.  It  is  time  you  made  the  attempt.  Apply  your  energies 
in  that  direction.  My  friend,  I  speak  with  the  august  presci- 
ence of  a  dying  man,  when  I  say  to  you,  Shake  off  this 
chronic  dream-life  and  act.     Farewell!" 

I  was  deeply  affected.  "  I  can  not  leave  you  so,"  I  said, 
after  a  silence  of  some  minutes.  "  I  will  not  leave  you  until 
you  have  promised  to  send  for  me  if  you  are  worse.  Do  not 
refuse." 

"  I  will  promise,  but  do  not  come.  You  will  almost  make 
me  feel  a  pang  at  parting." 

XVI. 

From  what  passed  at  this  interview,  I  felt  that  it  would  be 
an  intrusion  again  to  visit  Hegewisch,  unless  summoned.  I 
looked  daily  with  a  feverish  anxiety  for  the  promised  message. 
Tt  is  not  easy  to  describe  with  what  trepidation  I  opened  the 
note  of  whica  I  have  spoken.  From  its  contents  I  could 
gather  nothing.  I  have  the  note  in  my  drawer ;  it  is  in  a 
woman's  hand,  cei.ainly,  though  the  characters  are  traced 
hurriedly,  and  without  much  distinctness  : 

"2Btfl  £err  Saint  Cegev  tie  ©efdttigfeit  fyctben  unt>  oorjufragen, 
yto.  — •  —  3trct§e."  —  "Will  Mr.  Saint  Leger  have  the  kind- 
ness to  come  to  No.  — , Street." 

I  left  the  house  and  hurried  to  the  town.  I  turned  down 
this  street  and  across  that,  threading  my  way  into  the  remote 
section  where  Hegewisch  had  his  lodgings,  until,  anxious  and 
out  of  breath,  I  arrived  at  the  door.  I  did  not  stop  at  the 
entrance,  but  passed  directly  up  stairs,  without  meeting  any 
one.  Coming  to  his  apartment,  I  knocked  gently.  There 
was  no  response.  I  knocked  again  :  no  answer.  I  opened 
the  door  and  entered  :   the  room  was  vacant.     I  cast  my  eyes 


SAINT  LEGER.  329 

toward  the  apartment  of  which  Hegewisch  had  said,  with 
bitterness,  "  There  I  sleep."  The  door  into  it  was  open,  and 
there  indeed  I  discovered  Wolfgang  Hegewisch,  partly 
raised  upon  the  bed,  which  had  been  moved  into  the  centre 
of  the  narrow  chamber.  On  one  side,  and  with  her  arm 
under  the  head  of  her  dying  son,  sat  the  baroness  ;  upon 
the  other,  regarding  the  young  man's  countenance  with  dis- 
criminating solicitude,  stood  his  friend  and  physician. 

As  I  approached  nearer,  Hegewisch  turned  his  eyes  tow- 
ard me,  and  smiled  his  recognition.  This  caused  his  moth- 
er to  turn  around.  I  heard  my  name  pronounced  feebly  by 
my  friend.  The  baroness  rose  hastily,  came  toward  me, 
took  my  hand,  drew  me  to  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and 
burst  into  tears.  I  could  not  remain  unmoved.  I  tried  in 
vain  to  prevent  the  signs  of  my  emotion.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  . 
what  could  I  do  to  comfort  the  afflicted  mother  ]  At  this 
moment  the  physician  entered.  He  addressed  her  kindly, 
but  with  firmness  : 

"  Madam,  how  can  you  give  way  to  the  force  of  your  grief, 
when  by  so  doing  you  cause  your  son  such  pain  ]  As  for 
myself,  his  calm  and  dignified,  I  may  say  his  heavenly  com- 
posure, fills  my  breast  with  a  happiness,  unusual,  and  not 
easily  accounted  for.     I  pray  you  be  calm." 

By  this  time  I  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  join  with  the 
physician  in  endeavoring  to  assuage  her  anguish.  She  made 
a  strong  effort  to  become  self-possessed. 

"It  is  not  this  single  blow,"  said  she,  "that  so  unnerves 
me' ;  it  is  this  in  the  succession  of  horrid  events,  crowning  all, 
and  crushing  by  its  added  weight  the  little  strength  that  re- 
mained to  me." 

I  inquired  how  my  friend  was.  The  physician  shook  his 
head.  "Alas !  he  may  die  at  any  moment.  The  renewal 
of  the  spasms  must  overpower  him.     He  made  me  promise  to 


330  SAINT  LEGER. 

send  for  you  before  it  was  too  late.  You  may  go  in.  He  is 
so  calm,  that  I  have  no  fear  of  his  being  excited." 

I  proceeded  to  the  bed-side,  followed  by  the  physician  and 
the  baroness.  "Oh,  Father  of  Mercies!"  murmured  I, 
"  what  have  become  of  those  days  of  happy  wooing  on  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine  ?  Is  there  anything  tangible  in  the  awful 
past  !      Should  life  to  man  be  made  up  of  such  contradictions  !" 

I  took  the  hand  of  Hegewisch.  He  had  scarce  strength  to 
return  the  slight  pressure  I  gave  it.  But  that  smile  again 
illumined  his  countenance  with  an  expression  delightful  to 
contemplate. 

"  You  see  1  have  kept  my  promise.  I  feel  a  dreadful 
weight  removed  from  my  heart.  1  am  happy.  I  am  calm 
too.  Were  it  not  for  my  mother,  I  should  not  have  a  shadow 
crossing  my  spirit.  I  say  again,  remember  not  what  I  have 
uttered  in  my  wild  moments.  My  griefs  have  been  greater 
than  I  could  bear;  but  now  —  ah,  now  —  Meta — at  last  my 
Meta  beckons  me  hence." 

"  Mother  —  mother!"  he  whispered,  suddenly  dropping  my 
hand,  and  gasping  for  breath. 

She  flew  to  his  side.     The  spasms  had  returned. 

"Meta,  dear  Meta!  Gently,  mother — gently.  Lo !  I 
see —  .... 

He  was  dead. 

I  could  do  nothing  in  that  awful  moment. 


XVII. 

At  a  subsequent  interview  I  narrated  to  the  afflicted  parent 
all  that  I  had  known  of  her  son.  I  had  to  tell  the  story  over  and 
over  again.  In  some  way  she  discovered  that  I  was  the  only 
one  who  had  regarded  him  kindly,  and  her  gratitude  knew 
no  bounds. 


SAINT  LEGER.  331 


XVIII. 

The  remains  of  the  young  Baron  of rest  in  the  sombre 

tomb  of  his  fathers,  at  the  old  castle  on  the  Rhine.  The 
baroness  still  survives.  Solitary  and  desolate-hearted  she 
waits  with  resignation  the  summons  to  follow  her  husband 
and  her  son. 

And  Caspar?  He,  too,  lives — lives  in  the  Castle  of  Rich- 
stein,  in  possession  of  wealth  and  influence  and  power.  Full 
of  life,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  days,  he  prosecutes  his  selfish 
plans  —  successfully.  But  he  is  GoD-forsaken,  and  abhorred 
by  man. 

He  also  waits  the  summons. 

Have  I  digressed  too  much  in  narrating  the  story  of  Wolf- 
gang Hegewisch  ?  I  trow  not.  It  impressed  me.  It  convey- 
ed its  lesson,  and  therefore  I  record  it. 


XIX. 

The  months  and  the  seasons  glided  on.  I  was  not  always 
to  live  in  Leipsic ;  not  always  to  be  a  student,  and  I  knew  it. 
Scenes  of  action  which  lay  before  me,  though  far  in  the  dis- 
tance, began  to  assume  a  real  aspect.  Away  from  my  coun- 
try, I  had  the  opportunity  of  viewing  it  from  a  new  point  of 
observation.  I  began  to  reflect  upon  its  constitution,  its  man- 
ners, its  customs,  its  laws.  Occasionally  my  blood  would 
quicken  as  ambitious  desires  and  fancies  floated  through  my 
brain,  while  something  whispered  that  I  was  dreaming  away 
my  life.     Whispered  ?     Heavens  !     At  times  the  words  of  the 


332  SAINT  LEGER. 

dying  student :  "  Shake  off  this  chronic  dream-life  and  act !" 
rang  in  my  ears  as  if  sounded  by  the  trumpet  of  the  archan- 
gel ;  while  the  quiet  earnest  question  of  Theresa  :  "  Is  it  not 
action  that  you  most  require  V  penetrated  my  heart,  leaving 
a  deep  dull  pang  there. 

I  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and  just  as  I  had  resolved  to 
break  away  from  Leipsic,  I  received  this  letter : 

"  London,  May  10,  17 — . 

"  Why  do  I  write  to  you  when  it  is  too  late  ?  Why  do  I 
remind  you  of  your  promised  aid  when  I  am  beyond  the  reach 
of  aid  1  It  is  because  my  heart  is  bursting,  and  I  must  have 
one  solace ;  that  of  telling  you  all.  Oh  !  my  kinsman,  pity 
me.  My  father  is  dead.  He  died  in  that  fearful  island  ;  a 
place  to  me  of  abominations.  He  died  and  left  me — how  can 
I  blister  the  page  by  naming  it — the  affianced  of  Count 
Vautrey !  I  know  not  how  it  was.  I  know  not  how  it  is. 
My  mind  is  confused  ;  my  heart  is  dead  ;  I,  myself  am  nothing 
—  nothing.  When  I  wrote  to  you  a  long,  long  time  since,  I 
expected,  from  several  strange  hints  which  I  had  received 
from  Count  Vautrey,  to  have  been  forced  to  put  myself  under 
the  protection  of  my  English  friends.  But  the  threatened 
catastrophe  passed  away.  Years  ran  by,  happy  years  to  me, 
ah  !  never  to  return ;  but  I  can  not  allude  to  happiness  now. 
A  few  months  ago,  I  was  hastily  summoned  to  my  father.  I 
hurried  away  to  St.  Kilda,  and  found  him  on  his  death-bed. 
He  was  suffering  patiently,  and  was  so  dreadfully  changed 
that  I  scarcely  recognised  him ;  he  had  deferred  sending  for- 
me till  the  last  moment. 

"  It  was  evident  that  he  must  die.  My  father  —  die  !  But 
whom,  think  you,  found  I  as  his  attendant? — Laurent  De 
Vautrey!  —  I  did  not  understand  it.  I  can  not  now  under- 
stand it ;  but  so  it  was.  My  father's  manner  to  me  was  kind 
and  tender.     He  would  call  me  often   to  his  bedside,  appa- 


SAINT  LEGER.  333 

ently  with  the  intention  of  communicating  something,  and 
then,  as  if  unable  to  speak,  would  caress  me  tenderly,  and 
bid  me  sit  by  his  side.  He  grew  weaker  and  weaker.  I 
longed  to  know  what  was  in  his  heart.  I  dreaded  to  know, 
too,  for  something  told  me  it  had  reference  to  Vautrey  and 
myself.  One  evening  he  seemed  more  feeble  than  usual.  He 
beckoned  me  to  come  to  him  ;  I  obeyed,  but  he  did  not  speak. 
At  last  I  addressed  him  :  '  Dear  father,  tell  me  what  is  on 
your  mind ;  it  concerns  me,  I  know.  Do  not  fear,  I  will  re- 
ceive it  as  your  wish.'  He  started  as  if  an  adder  had  stung 
him.  Then  he  tried  to  smile,  then  he  looked  sadly  and  shook 
his  head.  '  Speak,  I  implore  you,'  I  cried.  '  Name  your 
wishes,  and  you  will  find  in  me  an  obedient  child.'  '  My 
daughter,'  was  the  response  —  and  my  father's  voice  grew 
husky  as  he  spoke :  '  My  daughter,  you  must  wed  Count 
Vautrey.'  I  neither  shrieked  nor  started ;  I  did  not  change 
color  nor  faint ;  I  did  not  fall  prostrate  ;  I  stood  erect ;  I 
stood  firm;  but  —  do  not  think  I  rave  —  could  the  entire 
misery  of  a  lifetime  the  most  miserable  be  concentrated  upon 
one  single  instant,  and  the  heart  steeped  in  it,  scarcely  should 
it  equal  the  wo  which  that  brief  sentence  brought  upon  me ! 
'  I  will,'  was  my  firm  and  almost  sudden  response.  My  father 
was  startled,  but  not  deceived  ;  he  knew  the  effort  which  those 
two  brief  words  had  cost  me.     '  Do  you  not,'  he   demanded, 

'  seek  to  know '     '  Not  one  word.     Oh,  my  father  !   it  is 

enough  that  I  know  it  to  be  necessary,  else   you  would  not 

have  commanded  it.'     '  I  would  not.     But  let  me  tell  you ' 

'Spare  me  —  spare  me,'  again  interrupted  I.  'Let  my  time 
be  devoted  to  making  your  sufferings  lighter ;  forget  me,  I 
shall  do  well  enough,  by-and-by.'  I  muttered  the  last  words 
to  myself,  but  my  father  still  surveyed  me  anxiously.  Pres- 
ently he  said  :  '  Shall  I  call  Laurent  here  V  '  If  you  please.' 
Count  Vautrey  was  summoned.     My  father  pronounced  us 


334  SAINT  LEGER. 

affianced,  and  I  hurried  to  my  apartment.  Then — oh  !  then, 
I  gave  loose  to  my  feelings,  not  by  tears  and  lamentations  — 
these  were  denied  to  me  ;  but  by  —  oh  God  !  I  dare  not  speak 
of  the  horrors  of  that  awful  night.  About  midnight,  T  was 
told  that  my  father  was  dying.  I  hurried  to  his  bedside,  but 
it  was  too  late.  He  did  not  recognise  me,  and  after  a  few 
moments  he  ceased  to  breathe. 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  my  situation,  or  what  I  suf- 
fered. I  left  St.  Kilda  and  came  directly  hither.  I  made  it 
a  stipulated  condition  with  Count  Vautrey,  that  he  should 
leave  me  to  myself  until  the  time  fixed  by  my  father  for  the 
nuptials.  Nuptials  !  I  fear  to  tell  you  where  I  am  going. 
I  know  that  you  are  a  Saint  Leger,  and  that  you  would  hasten 
to  relieve  me.  But  I  will  not  be  relieved.  I  too  am  a  Saint 
Leger.  I  have  promised  that  I  will  wed  Count  Vautrey,  and 
by  Heaven  I  will  keep  my  vow.  How  fearlessly  I  write  ; 
but  ah !  my  kinsman,  there  are  times  when  this  iron  resolu- 
tion bends  and  quivers  like  the  pliant  reed,  and  I,  a  very  wo- 
man, weep,  and  weep,  until  it  should  seem  that  I  had  wept 
my  heart  away.  Oh  God  !  what  shall  I  do.  I  will  keep  my 
promise  to  my  father.  He  had  a  fearful  reason  for  exacting 
it.  Something  mysterious,  and  dark,  and  inexplicable,  is  con- 
nected with  all  this.  But  come  fate  —  come  destiny — the  sac- 
rifice is  ready.     Farewell. 

"  Leila  Saint  Leger." 


XX. 

Again,  at  a  crisis  in  my  existence,  did  a  letter  from  Leila 
bring  me  back  to  myself.  There  was  a  certain  something 
about  that  letter  which  conveyed  the  idea  to  me  more  forci- 
bly than  the  former  one,  that  Leila  regarded  me  as  a  kinsman 
merely.     Strange  to  say,  at  this  time  the  discovery  did  not 


SAINT  LEGER.  335 

disappoint  or  grieve  me.  What  had  become  of  those  enthu- 
siastic feelings  which  I  experienced  at  St.  Kilda  1  Where 
were  the  transports  which  I  enjoyed  when,  gazing  at  the 
sparkling  stars  from  the  summit  of  Hirta,  I  thought  of  Leila, 
and  Leila  only  1  Again  T  exclaimed  :  Shall  there  ever  be 
anything  tangible  in  the  awful  past  ?  and  some  fiend  whis- 
pered, Never  !  and  I  shuddered  and  prayed.  But  the  letter 
served  its  office.  It  roused  me.  It  disenchanted  me.  I  read 
and  re-read  it,  in  hopes  that  something  in  it  would  throw  light 
upon  her  residence.  But  I  looked  in  vain.  1  carried  it  to 
Theresa,  and  asked  her  advice  —  women  are  so  quick-witted 
in  such  matters. 

Theresa  perused  the  letter  carefully,  then  raised  her  eyes 
to  mine,  and  said  :  "  The  case  is  pitiable ;  how  wrong  the 
decision  !      Do  you  know  if  she  loves  somebody  V 

"  I  do  not." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  her  heart  is  interested.  So  passion- 
ate ;  so  determined ;  alas !  with  such  feelings,  if  she  has 
lived  in  the  world  —  and  you  say  she  has  —  she  has  been  in- 
terested; her  heart  is  occupied." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so,  Theresa  ?" 

"  How  can  it  be  otherwise  1  Who  can  resist  necessity  1 
It  rules  everywhere ;  hunger  demands  food  at  the  point  of 
the  stiletto  ;  weariness  woos  the  balmy  breath  of  sleep  on  the 
dizzy  height  where  the  slightest  misstep  would  be  fatal ;  the 
body  seeks  and  must  have  its  accustomed  exercise  or  it  loses 
its  accustomed  strength  ;  and  the  giant  passions  which  inhabit 
around  the  soul,  they  must  have  scope  and  exercise  and  food, 
or  they  prowl  within  and  ravage  and  devastate  and  lay  waste 
there.     There  is  no  armor  against  that  which  is  ordained." 

"You  give  strange  attributes  to  your  sex." 

"  Attributes!"  said  Theresa,  with  more  warmth  than  I  had 
ever  seen  her  exhibit ;  "  how  dearly  does  woman  pay  for  all 


336  SAINT  LEGER. 

her  attributes.  If  her  mind  is  strong,  it  frets  and  chafes  be- 
cause it  is  cramped  and  confined  to  the  narrow  sphere  which 
man  has  chosen  to  allot  to  it.  If  alas  !  her  soul  is  passionate, 
how  surely  will  it  be  consumed  within  her,  or  become  the 
subject  of  injury  and  abuse.  If  she  is  loving  and  trustful, 
how  is  she  doomed  to  disappointment  or  disgust.  If  her 
heart  yearns  for  the  companionship  of  man,  how  chilled  and 
crushed  does  that  heart  become,  when  she  finds  that  man 
treats  her  as  a  playing  rather  than  as  a  companion.  If  she 
scorn  the  trammels  with  which  her  sex  are  confined,  she  en- 
counters misapprehension  and  the  severest  censure.  Rebel- 
lious, she  is  coerced ;  submissive,  she  is  by  turns  caressed 
and  trampled  upon.  To  wait  and  not  murmur ;  to  expect 
and  not  complain ;  to  live  and  move  and  have  her  being,  as 
if  she  lived  not,  moved  not,  and  had  no  being ;  to  be  sacrificed, 
to  suffer,  to  be  silent — this  is  the  destiny  of  woman." 

"  Theresa !  where  did  you  gather  such  strange  conclu- 
sions V 

"  Here,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  upon  her  heart  and 
looking  at  me  in  her  earnest  manner,  yet  just  as  tranquil,  as 
composed,  as  ever.  "  I  do  not  say  that  I  have  experienced," 
she  continued  ;   "  but  my  spirit  teaches  me  that  I  speak  truth." 

"  How  do  you  remain  so  calm  always  ?  Why  are  you 
never  excited  ?  What  power  do  you  invoke  to  maintain  such 
serenity  1" 

"  The  power  of  the  soul  is  in  itself;  it  does  not  need  hu- 
man appliances.  I  seek  the  aid  of  the  Most  High  to  sus- 
tain it." 

"  Theresa,  have  you  loved  ?" 

There  —  I  had  asked  a  question  which  I  had  been  waiting 
for  an  opportunity  to  put  ever  since  I  first  saw  my  friend. 
Twenty  times  at  least  I  had  it  on  my  lips  and  each  time  I 
lacked  the  courage  to  speak  out.     Now  I  had  spoken.     What 


SAINT  LEGER. 


337 


a  bold  home  thrust !  What  a  direct  downright  not-to-be- 
escaped  interrogatory  to  one  who,  when  she  spoke,  always 
uttered  truth. 

"  Theresa,  have  you  loved?"  She  directed  her  calm  blue 
eye  upon  mine,  and  its  gaze  seemed  to  search  my  being. 
In  that  eye  I  could  read  little,  save  perhaps  a  slight,  almost 
imperceptible,  look  of  scorn;  no — not  scorn  —  but  rather  an 
enduring  self-relying  look  which  at  times  resembles  scorn. 
Her  brow  appeared  broader,  her  countenance  nobler ;  but 
she  did  not  speak,  and  in  this  way  we  sat  looking  at  each 
other.  I  had  committed  myself,  and  could  not  recede.  1 
repeated  the  question.     "  Have  you  loved  ?" 

The  eye  of  the  maiden  changed  again  —  that  strange  calm 
imperturbable  eye  !  —  and  became  almost  mournful,  as  she 
uttered  with  quiet  distinctness,  "  No." 

I  took  a  long,  deep  breath ;  perhaps,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  respiration  had  unconsciously  been  checked ; 
this  would  account  for  the  relief  I  experienced,  for  I  did 
feel  relieved.  1  was  reproached  too  for  my  rudeness ;  and 
I  hastened  to  ask  forgiveness. 

"  Pardon  me,  Theresa ;  it  was  very  uncivil ;  but  I  could 
not  resist  the  impulse." 

"  It  was  not  right ;  but  you  can  not  tease  me,"  said 
Theresa,  gently.  "  Let  us  speak  of  your  relative.  You 
should  do  your  utmost  to  save  her  from  so  dreadful  a  fate." 

I  proceeded  in  the  conversation  with  a  light  heart.  "  Do 
yqu  really  think  I  should  interfere  ?" 

"  I  think  you  should  seek  your  cousin  and  endeavor  to  alter 
her  decision.  When  the  happiness  of  a  young  creature  is 
staked  upon  such  a  certain  issue  it  seems  dreadful  to  allow 
it  to  come  to  pass.  Behold  an  opportunity  for  you  to  act ; 
set  about  it.  See  what  you  can  do." 
22 


338  SAINT  LEGER, 


XXI. 

Here  our  conference  was  interrupted.  I  retired  to  my 
room.  In  a  short  time  I  had  finished  three  letters ;  one  to 
my  father,  one  to  my  mother,  and  one  to  Hubert  Moncrieff. 

In  the  letter  to  my  father,  I  asked  permission  to  leave 
Leipsic  and  make  a  tour  of  the  continent ;  this  had  been 
promised  me  when  I  left  England,  and  I  ventured  to  suggest 
that  the  time  had  arrived  when  I  could  best  profit  by  the 
permission. 

To  my  mother  I  wrote  a  letter  full  of  questions.  I  asked 
an  explanation  of  the  singular  life  which  my  aunt  Alice  led  — 
it  was  always  a  forbidden  theme  at  home ;  I  begged  for  an 
account  of  her  history  ;  and  I  inquired  about  Wilfred  Saint 
Leger,  and  Leila,  and  Laurent  de  Vautrey. 

To  Hubert  I  wrote,  as  I  suppose  young  men  usually  write 
to  each  other.  I  challenged  him  to  come  over  and  accompany 
me  in  my  travels.  I  gave  a  glowing  description  of  what  we 
should  hear  and  see  and  do.  I  spoke  of  our  friendship, 
our  congeniality  of  feeling,  etc.,  etc.,  and  wound  up  with 
a  reference  to  our  exciting  voyage  to  St.  Kilda.  In  a  post- 
script, I  inquired  if  he  had  heard  anything  more  of  the 
"Wcedallah  or  his  daughter,  and  in  a  nota-bene,  asked,  "What 
of  Vautrey  ;   did  you  ever  hear  anything  further  of  him  1" 

After  I  had  despatched  these  letters,  I  felt  more  at  ease.  I 
did  not  doubt  that  my  father  would  consent  to  the  proposed 
tour,  as  its  advantage  was  advocated  by  the  professor,  who 
certified  in  an  ample  maimer  to  the  proficiency  I  had  made 
as  a  student.  Besides,  I  had  nearly  attained  my  majority  :  in 
another  month  I  should  be  one-and-twenty. 


SAINT  LEGER.  339 


XXII. 

I  waited  patiently  for  answers.  Hubert's  came  fhst. 
Youth  best  sympathizes  with  youth.  My  postscript  and  nota- 
bene  were  first  noticed.  He  had  a  long  story  of  the  death 
of  the  Wcedallah  ;  of  the  sudden  appearance  one  night  of 
the  "beautiful  Leila,"  at  Glencoe,  attended  only  by  her 
servants  ;  of  a  long  conference  with  the  earl,  his  father,  of 
which  he  could  discover  nothing;  of  her  leaving  the  next 
day  ;  and  of  his  endeavors  to  ascertain  (on  my  account,  as  he 
assured  me)  whither  she  was  gone.  He  could  find  out  noth- 
ing, discover  nothing,  except  that  Margaret,  who  was  ac- 
quainted with  everything,  Heaven  only  knew  how,  had  inad- 
vertently spoken  of  Leila  as  living  at  Dresden,  that  he  had 
affected  not  to  notice  the  remark,  and  had  afterward  tried  to 
find  out  something  more,  but  in  vain.  That  he  knew  nothing 
of  Vautrey  at  all ;  but  rumor  had  associated  his  name  with 
that  of  the  fair  Leila. 

Hubert  regretted  that  he  could  not  join  me  in  the  proposed 
tour,  but  the  thing  was  impossible;  the  whole  house  was  in 
uproar  preparing  for  two  bridals.  His  sister  Margaret  was 
to  be  married  to  a  young  English  nobleman,  and  his  brother 
Francis,  on  the  same  day,  to  the  Lady  Annie,  now  sole  heir- 
ess of  Glenross.  "  So  you  see,"  continued  the  letter,  "  the 
fates  keep  me  here,  when  I  would  a  thousand  times  rather  be 
away  with  you.  We  must  bide  our  time  ;  but  we  will  have 
a  scamper  together  yet.  By  the  way,  old  Christie  often  in- 
quires for  you.  He  says  ye  are  a  '  lad  of  mickle  spirit,  only 
a  bit  whittie-wbattieing  like  ;  mair  the  pity,  puir  fellow.'     I 


340  8AINT  LEGER. 

will  write  you  again  after  these  confounded  —  pshaw,  I  mean 
these  happy — bridals  are  over.     Good-by." 

At  the  bottom  of  the  sheet  was  a  single  line,  in  an  exquis- 
itely neat  hand,  "  Do  not  forget  Ella." 

How  much  good  that  letter  did  me  !  How  it  opened  the 
door  to  my  pent  spirit !  How  suddenly  it  revived  all  the  ex- 
citing scenes  I  witnessed  in  the  highlands  !  And  how  dis- 
tinctly it  brought  back  the  captivating  Ella  Moncrieff !  Be- 
sides, I  learned  where  Leila  was  ;  at  least  I  was  not  inclined 
to  doubt  the  correctness  of  the  information. 


XXIII. 

In  a  few  days  letters  from  home  came.  I  eagerly  ran  over 
the  package  :  my  father's  first,  and  looked  far  enough  to  see 
that  my  request  was  granted,  and  then,  without  stopping  to 
read  it,  the  one  from  my  mother.  It  was  like  all  her  letters, 
anxiously  affectionate,  showing  the  strong  and  ever-watchful 
solicitude  of  parental  affection.  In  reply  to  my  queries, 
she  said  no  one  could  account  for  the  malady  (so  my  mother 
termed  it)  of  the  Lady  Alice ;  that  in  her  youth  she  enjoyed 
all  that  station,  wealth,  beauty,  and  a  remarkable  intellect, 
could  bring ;  that  she  was  universally  sought  after  and  court 
ed  ;  but  was  from  childhood  possessed  of  strange  eccentrici- 
ties ;  her  head  was  filled  with  plots,  adventures,  and  tales  of 
chivalrous  deeds ;  she  was  always  playing  some  strange  part 
in  some  strange  performance ;  she  hated  men  as  a  race,  or 
rather  despised  them ;  she  believed  them  all  to  be  unreliable 
and  corrupt,  and  when  young  took  delight  in  humbling  the 
haughtiest ;  and  by  degrees  she  excluded  herself  from  the 
world,  until,  by  habitual  indulgence  in  her  mode  of  life,  she 
became  what  she  then  was.  Singular  scenes  were  said  to 
have  transpired  between  Wilfred  Saint  Leger  and  herself 


SAINT   LEGER.  341 

and  also  between  her  and  Wilfred  the  younger.  On  one  oc- 
casion, it  was  understood  that  she  had  plunged  a  dagger  into 
the  breast  of  the  father,  declaring  he  should  die  rather  than 
disgrace  his  name  ;  and  the  wound  came  near  proving  fatal. 
On  another,  she  threatened  the  son  with  a  like  vengeance,  un- 
less he  abandoned  his  irregular  life.  Wilfred  the  younger 
was  the  father  of  Leila  Saint  Leger,  about  whom  I  had  in- 
quired, and  of  whom  she  could  tell  me  nothing ;  except  that 
her  father  was  dead,  she  living  with  a  relative  somewhere  on 
the  continent,  and  engaged  to  marry  the  Count  de  Vautrey, 
of  whom  she  knew  very  little.  When  a  small  boy  he  had 
spent  a  few  weeks  at  Bertold  Castle,  in  company  with  one  of 
her  kinsmen,  a  Moncrieff ;  and  that  the  child  at  that  early  age 
inspired  every  one  with  aversion,  not  to  say  hatred.  She 
knew  nothing  of  his  residence. 

My  vague  associations  connected  with  this  man  were  not 
mere  dreams  after  all,  said  I  to  myself,  as  I  finished  reading 
the  letter.  Strange  that  in  my  infancy  he  should  have  been 
for  a  season  under  the  same  roof  with  me,  and  that  we  should 
have  met  as  we  did ;  and  conjecture,  with  its  shapeless,  un- 
formed images  began  to  fill  my  brain,  and  I  was  fast  sinking 
into  a  mazy  revery,  when  I  remembered  that  my  father's  let- 
ter remained  unread.  I  took  it  up,  and  as  it  is  short,  will 
give  it  to  the  reader  of  these  memoirs  : 

"  My  Dear  Son  :  I  consent  to  your  proposed  tour,  and  am 
6atisfied,  by  what  I  learn  from  the  good  doctor,  with  your 
proficiency  while  at  Leipsic.  As  you  are  now  a  man,  and 
are  henceforth  to  think  and  act  for  yourself,  I  have  no  wish 
to  fetter  or  restrain  you.  I  have  no  fear  that  you  will  forget 
your  sense  of  accountability  to  Almighty  God,  or  the  claims 
of  conscience  ;  for  I  have  confidence  in  your  principles,  and 
in  your  uprightness  of  character.     Enclosed  you  will  find  a 


342  SAINT  LEGER. 

bill  of  exchange  on for    £ — ,  and    a  letter  of  credit 

on  the  same  house  unlimited.     Your  mother  writes  by  this 
post.     I  pray  God's  blessing  to  rest  upon  you. 
"  From  your  affectionate  father, 

"  Guv  H.  S.  Saint  Leger. 
"P.  S.  —  Trust  no  Frenchman  —  believe  in  no  French  wo- 
man.    France  has  been   a  curse  to  our  nation,  and  French- 
men and  French  women  a  curse  to  our  family. 

"  G.  H.  S.  St.  L." 


XXIV. 

If  ever  captive  felt  lightness  of  heart  when  his  chains  were 
struck  off  and  he  set  at  liberty,  after  breathing  the  noisome 
atmosphere  of  a  dungeon  ;  if  ever  convalescent  was  cheered 
by  the  pleasant  sunlight  and  the  refreshing  breeze,  after  the 
confinement  of  a  long  and  dangerous  sickness  ;  if  ever  mar- 
iner, tempest-tossed  for  months,  hailed  with  transport  the 
sight  of  the  green  earth  :  then  did  I  feel  lightness  of  heart, 
then  was  I  cheered,  transported,  at  the  prospect  of  this  change 
of  life.  How  the  blood  went  galloping  through  my  veins  !  I 
will  pack  to-day,  and  will  set  off  to-morrow.  Now  for  life  ! 
Pleasure,  I  will  grasp  you  yet !  Change,  novelty,  new 
scenes,  new  actions,  freedom — ay,  freedom!  freedom  for 
anything — by  Heaven,  I  will  shut  out  all  but  this  purpose  ! 
I  will  live  a  while  without  the  interference  of  that  surly 
weight  that  hangs  like  lead  about  my  heart.  Up  and  out  into 
life  !  Already  is  my  appetite  sharpened  for  adventure  ;  al- 
ready a  thousand  tumultuous  thoughts  crowd  upon  me. 

Italy !  I  shall  see  thy  soft  skies ;  I  shall  revel  in  thy  classic 
groves,  delightful  Tuscany;  I  shall  wander  through  thy  ruins, 
Eternal  City.  Spain !  how  sweet  the  anticipation  of  thy 
beauties  !     Already  I  see  thy  sunny  plains  and  stately  palm- 


SAINT  LEGER. 


343 


groves,  thy  orange-walks,  and  thy  delicious  gardens.  I  hear 
the  soft  music  of  the  evening  guitar  ;  and  now,  the  tinkling  of 
the  muleteer's  bell  greets  my  ear.  'Tis  evening ;  the  maidens 
of  Andalusia  are  on  the  balconies  listening  to  the  impassioned 
serenade.  I  come  !  T  will  soon  see  this  birth-place  of  passion 
—  this  home  of  love  ! 

What  if  the  heart  become  cold  ? —  what  if  the  cheek  wrinkle 
and  the  eye  grow  dim  ?  Youth!  let  me  but  enjoy  youth! 
Give  me  but  the  experience  of  joy,  passion,  love,  jealousy, 
hate  ;  ]et  me  see  beauty,  and  call  it  mine  ;  let  me  clutch  what 
looks  so  glittering ;  baubles  they  may  be,  but  let  me  have  them 
in  my  hand !  Let  me  see,  and  know,  and  feel,  instead  of  tak- 
ing upon  trust,  what  doth  and  what  doth  not  perish  with  the 
using.  Then  approach,  ye  ministers  of  fate,  and  do  your 
worst  with  me ! 

XXV. 

In  the  midst  of  a  rhapsody  which  I  attempt  now  to  describe, 
the  door  opened  gently,  and  Theresa  Von  Hofrath  entered. 
The  fever-current  was  calmed;  the  exciting  visions  of  pleasure 
dissolved  apace ;  only  my  heart  continued  to  beat  quickly  as 
before,  yet  with  a  heavier  pulsation.  The  letters  lay  before 
me  ;  I  was  gazing  at  them.  Theresa  came  a  few  steps  to- 
ward me  and  stopped.     I  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"  I  have  letters  from  home  at  last." 

"  And  can  you  go  !"  asked  Theresa. 

'"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  how  happy  I  am  to  hear  it !  Now  all  will  be  well. 
And  you  can  go  1" 

"Yes." 

Theresa's  countenance  actually  lighted  with  happiness  ;  her 
whole  manner  changed     she  was  almost  enthusiastic  in  her 


344 


SAINT  LEUEli. 


hopes  for  me.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  never  half  appreciated 
her.  A  strange  feeling  oppressed  me  ;  I  came  near  bursting 
into  tears.  I  never  could  account  satisfactorily  for  the  pe- 
culiar moods  that  at  times  come  over  us.  There  is  a  subtle 
spirit  within,  which  acts  unexpectedly  ujjon  the  instant,  baffling, 
and  contradicting,  and  defying  all  form,  all  habit,  all  rule,  and 
all  philosophy  ;  a  remnant  of  some  brighter  period  of  the  soul, 
vindicating,  by  its  potency,  the  hypothesis  of  a  time  anterior, 
when  form,  and  habit,  and  rule,  and  philosophy,  were  unknown. 
While  I  stood  oppressed  by  strange  feelings,  Theresa  had 
left  the  room. 


XXVI. 

In  two  days  I  was  ready  to  quit  Leipsic.  I  was  to  go  into 
the  town  in  the  evening,  to  be  ready  for  the  schnell-post,  which 
was  to  start  the  next  morning.  The  professor  insisted  on 
accompanying  me  to  the  hotel. 

Yes,  everything  was  ready ;  and,  with  my  cloak  across  my 
arm,  I  turned  to  meet  Theresa,  who  was  coming  to  the  door. 
I  took  her  hand;  a  cheerful  "  Good-by !"  passed  my  lips;  it 
was  echoed  by  her.  The  professor  had  reached  the  carriage, 
and  I  hastened  to  join  him. 

I  did  not  look  back  to  see  Theresa  again  ! 


END  OF  BOOK  FOURTH, 


BOOK    V. 


Erci'^ovTa  <5'  airiipoprov  oUeia  adyrj 
'£{  "Apyoj,  axmep  Scvp'  dirc^vyriv  KoSaf, 
'Ayvoi;  Tpdi  dyvtir'  uirc  ov/jifJaXoiv    dvtip 
'E^iGTopfioas   Kal  aa(pr]viaa<;   bioiu 

jEschylus,  Choeph.,  662. 

Occasions  of  my  own  called  me  to  Argos. 

Onward  as  I  travelled 

I  met  a  man  unknown,  myself  to  him 
Unknown ;  he  courteous  questioned  me  how  far 
I  journeyed,  and  informed  me  of  my  way. 

$£u'  raj^eXa.    y    r/Xdc  xpriapdv  Trpdfis 

ZcOs  aTrtcTKriipsir  re\cvriif  Bccripdrojv. 

jEschtlus,  Persx,  735. 

•Vith  what  a  winged  course  the  oracles 
Haste  their  completion  !     With  the  lightning's  speed 
Jove  on  this  man  hath  hurled  his  threatened  vengeance. 


BOOK    FIFTH 


I. 

Daybreak  throughout  Germany  is  the  hour  for  breakfast. 

At  daybreak  on  the  morning  of  the  twelfth  of  May,  17 — , 
I  was  seated  at  the  table  of  the  Weiss-Schwan  in  Leipsic,  in 
company  with  several  persons  who  were  on  that  morning 
to  take  the  schnell-post  for  Dresden. 

What  sent  me  to  Dresden  ? 

The  hope  of  rescuing  Leila  Saint  Leger  from  Laurent  de 
Vautrey. 

How  was  I  to  effect  this  even  if  I  could  find  her,  which  was 
doubtful  enough  ? 

I  did  not  stop  to  answer  the  question.  I  determined  to 
trust  to  the  hour  and  to  the  circumstance.  Full  of  new  proj- 
ects and  plans  without  number,  I  made  a  hasty  breakfast, 
and  rising  from  the  table,  paced  up  and  down  the  hall  while 
waiting  the  arrival  of  the  ponderous  vehicle  which  was  to 
transport  us  to  the  capital  of  Saxony. 

Mine  host,  perceiving  that  I  had  done  poor  justice  to  the 
morning  meal,  insisted  that  I  should  strengthen  myself  with  a 
glass  of  schnapps,  which  it  would  have  been  discourteous  to 
refuse ;  after  which,  and  purely  as  a  matter  of  self-defence, 
tn  prevent  further  interruption,  I  lighted  my  meerschaum  and 
resumed  my  walk. 


SAINT  LEGER. 

At  length  a  noise  resembling  the  sound  of  distant  thunder 
was  heard,  and  shortly  after,  drawn  by  some  ten  or  twelve 
crazy  horses,  the  sclmell-post  came  rumbling  down  the  street. 

By  means  of  kicks  and  screams  and  the  free  use  of  the 
whip,  with  the  added  force  of  sundry  oaths  made  up  of a  patois, 
which  would  have  done  credit  to  the  dispersed  builders  of 
Babel,  the  bedlam-looking  steeds  were  finally  persuaded  to 
stand  still. 

I  bade  my  host  farewell,  and  distributing  a  few  groschens 
among  the  civil  attendants,  mounted  the  ladder,  meerschaum 
in  hand,  and  after  a  short  journey  arrived  safe  —  inside. 

Another  set-to  then  commenced.  The  kicks  and  screams, 
and  whip,  and  oaths,  were  plied  with  an  impartial  distribu- 
tion;  and  presently  at  the  rattling  pace  of  four  miles  the  hour 
we  took  leave  of  the  "bookshelf"  of  Germany. 

II. 

And  who  were  "  we,"  who  with  one  accord  had  sought  a 
common  destination  on  that  morning  ? 

At  first,  owing  to  the  dense  vapor  of  tobacco  smoke,  I  was 
unable  to  satisfy  myself  on  that  point,  but  as  we  left  the  town, 
the  air  had  a  freer  course  through  the  windows,  and  I  found 
opportunity  to  inspect  my  fellow-travellers. 

There  were  five  besides  myself  inside ;  how  many  were  in 
front  and  rear  and  upon  the  top  I  do  not  know  ;  but  the  in- 
side contained  just  six,  including  me.  There  could  be  no 
mistake  about  it,  for  I  counted  my  companions  several  times. 

They  were  for  the  most  part  substantial  looking  Dutch- 
men, with  staid  appearance  and  civil  demeanor.  Your  Ger- 
man is  a  humane  and  a  polite  man.  He  does  not  possess  that 
busy  politeness  which  under  cover  of  a  benevolent  assiduity, 
scrutinizes  your  dress,  even  to  the  most  minute  portion  of  it ; 


SAINT  LEGER.  349 

which  pries  into  the  very  recesses  of  your  pocket ;  which 
values  each  article  of  your  luggage,  and  puts  a  price  even 
upon  your  own  importance  ;  but  on  the  contrary,  his  is  tkat 
unostentatious,  unobtrusive  civility  which  permits  every  one 
to  enjoy  his  own  quiet  after  his  own  fashion,  and  busy  him- 
self with  his  own  reflections  without  interruption;  which 
answers  a  proper  question  with  candor,  without  following  up 
the  advantage  by  seeking  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity. 

Ill 

One  —  two  —  three  —  four.  I  stuck  at  the  fifth  man  each 
time.  Not  that  I  made  any  mistake  in  the  count ;  there 
were  five  beside  myself;  but  this  fifth  personage  baffled  all 
my  conjectures  as  to  his  nation,  kindred,  language,  or  occu- 
pation. The  four  were  Dutch ;  I  was  sure  enough  of  that. 
Not  that  they  were  just  alike,  for  one  might  have  been  a  pro- 
fessor, another  a  dealer  in  laces,  the  third  a  manufacturer  of 
porcelain,  the  fourth  a  stadtholder,  but  all  Germans,  not 
a  doubt  of  it. 

This  fifth  man,  he  was  my  vis-a-vis,  how  could  I  help  look- 
ing at  him  ? 

Presently  he  dropped  asleep ;  then  I  looked  at  him  the 
more  steadily.  In  the  first  place  it  was  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  conjecture  his  age.  One  could  make  him  appear  al- 
most any  number  of  years  old  from  twenty  up  to  forty-five. 
The  marks  with  which  anxieties  or  disappointments  or  press- 
ing cares  encircle  the  face,  the  forehead,  the  eyes,  the  mouth, 
could  be  distinctly  traced  on  the  countenance  of  the  sleeper 
—  strange  that  such  heartache  characters  should  be  in  circle?, 
instead  of  sharp  angles  and  straight  lines — but  then  the 
mouth  even  in  slumber  seemed  to  set  these  lines  at  defiance. 
It  was  an  honest  mouth,  from  each  corner  round  to  the  em- 


350  SAINT  LEGER. 

bouchure;  but  for  all  that  the  lips  were  compressed;  whether 
in  the  self-relying  honesty  of  a  pure  heart,  or  in  stern  resolu- 
tion, or  in  bitter  endurance,  I  could  not  determine.  The 
character  of  the  face  told  forty-five ;  a  something  distinct 
from  that,  partaking  of  innocence  and  simplicity,  said  twenty. 
But  little  could  be  seen  of  the  forehead,  for  an  immense 
quantity  of  tangled  light  hair  inclining  to  red,  was  shook  over 
it  in  most  uncouth  disorder.  The  nose  was  large  and 
ugly ;  the  face  was  well  enough,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
nose,  but  the  mouth  redeemed  the  whole.  I  had  not  as  yet  a 
chance  at  the  eyes. 

As  to  his  dress,  it  was  somewhere  between  a  gentleman's 
and  that  of  a  gentleman's  valet.  It  was  nearly  threadbare  : 
that  belonged  not  to  the  gentleman ;  it  was  in  slovenly  order : 
that  partook  not  of  the  valet.  In  cut  and  fashion  it  resembled 
the  costume  of  no  one  country  in  particular,  but  appeared  to 
be  a  sort  of  medley,  made  up  for  the  sake  of  a  compromise, 
of  the  fashions  of  a  dozen  different  nations. 

After  glancing  over  the  dress,  I  went  back  to  the  face  again. 

With  what  different  feelings  do  we  regard  a  person  sleep- 
ing and  the  same  person  awake  !  The  defenceless  character 
of  the  situation  disarms  us  of  that  depreciating  spirit  with 
which  we  are  apt  to  scrutinize  the  unknown  and  the  stranger. 


IV. 

As  the  schnell-post  descended  a  steep  hill  a  few  miles  out 
of  Leipsic,  it  dashed  across  a  small  bridge  with  such  a  tre- 
mendous jolt  that  my  neighbor  opposite  was  startled  from  his 
slumber.  He  hastily  replaced  the  cap  upon  his  head,  which 
had  some  time  before  fallen  off,  and  as  he  did  so,  caught  my 
eye ;  I   suppose  there  was  something  in   it  which  provoked 


SAINT  LEGER. 


351 


speech,  for,  although  not  quite  awake,  he  muttered,  in  a  low 
voice : 

"3^  Hn  iiber  bem  grogeit  Carmen  cuifgeroacfyt.  %d)  fyabe 
cergangene  9?acr/t  m'c^t  gut  gefcfylafen." 

And  then,  as  if  suddenly  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the 
morning,  he  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  window,  took  a  glance 
up  and  down,  snuffed  in  the  fresh  air,  looked  half  angrily  to- 
ward the  smokers  (I  had  laid  aside  the  meerschaum),  then  out 
of  the  window  again,  then  once  more  at  me. 

"  I  believe  I  am  awake  now,"  he  continued,  in  German. 

"It  is  a  fine  morning,"  said  I. 

"  Too  fine  to  be  shut  up  in  this  filthy  place.  At  the  bottom 
of  the  next  hill  let's  have  a  run  ;  what  say  you  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

And  so,  on  coming  to  a  hill,  we  got  out  and  proceeded  on 
foot  in  advance  of  our  conveyance.  We  ran  on  for  some  time 
in  silence,  until  we  had  gained  considerably  on  the  schnell- 
post,  when  we  stopped  on  a  small  mound  by  the  roadside,  to 
take  breath.  My  companion  turned  and  surveyed  me  with 
an  amusing  scrutiny.  I  say  amusing,  for  shrewdness  and 
simplicity  were  so  mingled  in  the  expression  of  his  face,  that 
one  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it.  I  now  got  sight  of  his 
eyes :  they  were  of  light-gray,  not  large,  yet  expressive  of 
humor,  pathos,  deep  feeling,  and,  as  I  have  said,  shrewdness 
and  simplicity.     At  length  he  commenced,  as  follows  : 

"  Ne  venez  vous  pas  de  France  V 

"  Je  viens  de  Leipsic." 

"  Mais  ou  allez  vous  si  vite  V 

"  En  Dresden,  comme  vous  voyez." 

He  looked  around  and  gazed  at  the  prospect ;  taking  off 
his  cap,  he  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  shook  his  head, 
took  two  or  three  long  breaths,  as  if  to  drink  in  the  air,  and 
then  exclaimed : 


352  SAINT  LEGER. 

"  Cuan  puro  y  saludable  es  el  aire  del  campo  !" 
"  En  el  campo,"  continued  I,  "  es  donde  se  disfruta  la  ver- 
dadera  libertad ;   yo  me  ahogo,  encerrado  en   el  interior  del 
pueblo." 

My  new  acquaintance  turned  again  to  survey  the  landscape, 
and  his  eye  happening  to  fall  upon  a  quaint-looking  old  build- 
ing, not  far  from  the  roadside,  he  attacked  me  with  the  fol- 
lowing : 

"  Questa  casa  e  fabbricata  a  modo  di  castello." 

To  which  I  replied :  "  Oltre  modo.  Di  grazia  non  mi 
romper  la  testa." 

The  other  looked  full  in  my  face,  and,  with  an  easy,  pleas- 
ant smile,  exclaimed,  in  pure  English : 

•'  When  did  you  leave  home?" 

"  Longer  ago  than  I  care  to  remember." 

"  You  are  English  !" 

"  And  you  are  — " 

"A  scape-grace  whom  any  country  would  be  ashamed  to 
own,"  interrupted  the  other,  good-humoredly. 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  by  a  scape-grace  V 

"  Me  !" 

"  That  is  talking  in  a  circle." 

"  No.  You  have  only  to  get  acquainted  with  me  to  know 
the  meaning  of  both  terms." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  appear  1" 

"  Wait  till  we  are  acquainted,  and  it  will  appear  as  plain 
as  the  hill  of  Howth." 

"I  have  caught  you  —  Irish?" 

"  And  my  name  is  Robert  Macklome." 

"  Mine  is  William  Henry  Saint  Leger. 

"  William  Henry  Saint  Leger,  let  us  abandon  that  cursed 
vehicle  and  go  to  Dresden  on  foot ;  but  stay,  we  shall  know 
each  other    in   a  few  hours ;    we   come    for    the    noon-meal 


SAINT  LEGER.  353 

($)2ttta§  ejjV")  to  the  toll-gate.  The  keeper  has  a  handsome 
rosy-cheeked  daughter,  with  flaxen  hair  and  light  blue  eyes. 
I  say  it  in  all  innocence ;  we  will  make  a  halt  at  the  toll- 
house ;  your  luggage  shall  go  on  to  your  hotel  at  Dresden  ; 
for  myself,  I  am  not  encumbered  with  the  article ;  but  see, 
they  are  making  signs  to  us ;"  (for  while  we  were  talking, 
the  schnell-post  had  gone  quietly  along,  and  had  now  reached 
the  top  of  the  hill ;)  "let  us  run  ;"  and  off  we  sprang  for  a 
race  up  the  ascent.  We  stopped  a  moment  at  a  small  hut  on 
the  summit,  and  obtained  a  draught  of  sour  wine;  then  mounted 
to  the  inside,  and  the  schnell-post  rolled  on. 

It  was  a  grateful  exercise,  that  of  talking  in  my  native 
tongue  to  one  equally  familiar  with  it.  While  at  Leipsic  I 
do  not  remember  to  have  conversed  in  English  with  one  of 
my  countrymen.  And  what  little  of  the  language  I  did  occa- 
sionally speak,  was  entirely  out  of  the  conversational  way. 


V. 

I  was  not  long  in  forming  an  opinion  of  my  Irish  friend. 
Possessing  by  nature  an  extreme  impatience  of  everything 
like  restraint,  he  had  indulged  his  love  of  license  until  it  be 
came  a  sort  of  vagabondism.  His  story  was  told  in  a  few  words. 
He  was  a  younger  son  ;  his  family  of  limited  means ;  and,  consid- 
ered a  precocious  youth,  he  was  sent  to  Trinity  college,  which, 
the  discipline  proving  irksome,  he  abandoned  in  a  couple 
of  years,  resolved  to  see  the  world,  after  the  fashion  of 
poor  Goldsmith.  He  accordingly  set  out,  with  ten  pounds  in 
his  pocket  —  all  he  could  induce  his  friends  to  trust  him 
with  —  and,  stimulated  by  an  inordinate  desire  for  novelty, 
and  aided  by  a  surprising  facility  in  acquiring  languages,  he 
went  from  country  to  country,  enjoying  with  a  natural  ingen- 
uousness, not  to  say  childishness  of  heart,  every  new  scene, 
23 


354  SAINT  LEGER. 

and  entering  into  the  sports  and  pleasures  with  which  the 
moment  chanced  to  surround  him.  In  this  way  he  had  re- 
peatedly traversed  every  nation  of  Europe,  selecting  ordin- 
arily the  most  unfrequented  routes,  and  visiting  the  most  se- 
cluded and  out  of  the  way  places. 

Macklorne  was  a  solitary  being.  He  had  both  friends  and 
relations,  but  he  was  nevertheless  emphatically  alone  in  the 
world.  Did  he  nurse  an  affected  wretchedness?  did  he  de- 
plore the  unlucky  fate  which  had  sent  him  forth  with  a  keen 
relish  for  novelty  and  change,  with  an  exquisite  taste,  a  deli- 
cate ear,  and  a  nice  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  in  nature 
and  in  art,  and  yet  had  withheld  the  means  of  enjoying  these? 
Not  a  jot.  He  set  his  fate  at  defiance  ;  not  by  gloomily  fold- 
ing his  arms,  contracting  his  brow  and  feeding  upon  dark 
fancies;  not  by  turning  misanthrope  and  sneering  at  humani- 
ty ;  but  by  a  resolute,  good-humored  and  persevering  indiffer- 
ence to  everything  concerning  himself,  which  after  all  is  often 
the  token  of  a  superior  will.  There  was  something  in  his  sin- 
gleness of  heart  that  stood  in  the  place  of  the  shrewdest  pen- 
etration ;  one  could  not  be  a  half  hour  in  his  company  with- 
out feeling  it,  and  there  was  that  about  his  society  that  made 
you  think  better  of  yourself  and  more  kindly  of  all  the 
world. 


VI. 

The  halfway  house  between  Leipsic  and  Dresden  is 
nearly  thirty  miles  from  either  place,  and  just  one  half  of  the 
day  was  employed  in  reaching  it.  Long  before  we  came  to 
it,  however,  I  had  determined  to  adopt  the  suggestion  of 
Macklorne  and  turn  pedestrian  for  the  rest  of  the  distance.  I 
was  moved  to  this  by  several  reasons.  In  the  first  place  I 
was  delighted  with  my  companion  :  what  a  contrast  with  the 


SAINT  LEGER.  355 

•Siaracters  I  had  left  behind  me  !  I  was  charmed,  too,  with 
the  idea  of  taking  to  the  road  in  the  very  extreme  of  liberty  and 
license ;  and  I  believed  Macklorne,  who  was  familiar  with 
Dresden,  might  aid  n;e  in  the  object  of  my  journey  thither. 


VII. 

A  sudden  turn  in  the  road,  just  as  the  traveller  begins  to 
fear  that  he  has  been  misinformed  as  to  the  proximity  of  the 
half  way  house,  discovers,  close  at  hand,  the  house  itself.  At 
this  point  the  postillion  invariably  gets  up  another  agitation 
among  his  cattle,  preparatory,  and  indeed  essential  to  the  ex- 
citement of  bringing  them  to  a  halt.  At  five  minutes  before 
twelve  we  were  safely  deposited  on  the  north  side  of  the  toll- 
gate.  In  five  minutes  more  we  were  summoned  to  dinner.. 
My  new  friend  was  recognised  by  the  host  as  an  old  acquaint- 
ance ;  and  the  flaxen-haired,  blue-eyed  Catharine  readily  pre- 
sented either  cheek  for  his  salutation.  I  was  then  brought 
forward,  and  should  have  been  allowed  a  similar  favor,  so 
current  was  an  introduction  from  Macklorne,  had  I  cared  to 
avail  myself  of  it.  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  a  kiss  has 
always  seemed  to  me  a  sacred  seal  of  a  sacred  feeling,  and 
I  have  looked  upon  the  custom  of  extending  it  indiscriminate- 
ly with  repugnance.  But  Catharine  had  no  time  to  listen  to  any 
such  philosophical  apology,  for  the  guests  were  now  nearly  all 
seated,  and  she  was  the  only  attendant.  1  have  ever  since 
remembered  that  simple-hearted  maid  with  a  kindly  feeling. 
She  seemed  to  find  her  recompense  in  suiting  all.  With  a 
pleased  alacrity  she  anticipated  every  wish  before  it  was  ex- 
pressed ;  and  the  smile  of  satisfaction,  when  she  had  pro- 
cured for  you  whatever  you  desired,  came  from  her  heart. 

The  dinner  was  plain  but  neat.     We  were  hungry,  and  the 
leberwurst,  the    kartoffel-salat,  and  good  home-brewed  ale. 


:$6  SAINT  LEGER. 

served  literally  to  gladden  our  spirits.  Dinner  over,  the  pas- 
sengers lighted  their  pipes,  the  schnell-post  rattled  to  the  door, 
and  with  a  sympathizing  German  guttural,  giving  token  of  a 
genera]  inward  satisfaction,  the  party  set  off  again. 


VIII. 

vs  I  stood  with  Macklome  watching  the  retiring  vehicle,  I 
felt  for  the  first  time  in  years  an  absolute  and  unbounded 
sense  of  freedom.  Presently  we  strolled  out  to  take  a  view 
of  the  scenery.  I  was  struck  with  its  beauty,  The  turnpike 
wound  through  a  delightful  valley,  and  at  this  spot  the  ground 
upon  our  left  rose  gradually  higher  and  higher,  until  it  reach- 
ed a  considerable  elevation.  The  hill,  to  the  very  summit, 
was  cut  into  terraces,  and  laid  out  in  luxuriant  vineyards.  To 
the  right  the  country  was  undulating,  and  covered  with  im- 
mense grain-fields.  The  whole  had  the  appearance  of  an  ex- 
tended garden.  Indeed,  it  was  a  sight  rarely  to  be  met  with, 
even  in  the  most  cultivated  regions.  Doubtless  it  had  re- 
quired years  of  toil,  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
to  elaborate  such  an  exquisite  picture  of  human  industry. 

We  strolled  through  the  vineyards  up  the  ascent.  Thence 
we  could  see  several  red-roofed  cottages  scattered  around, 
and  here  and  there  we  encountered  a  Saxon  peasant  at  his 
labor.  His  coarse  but  well-mended  garments  spoke  in  praise 
of  the  "  gute  frau,"  while  his  honest  look,  and  quiet  eye,  in 
which  beamed  no  restless  light  of  education,  exhibited  an  en- 
tire contentment  with  his  lot  of  ceaseless  plodding. 

At  a  distance,  surrounded  by  a  dense  wood,  I  thought  I 
could  perceive  the  walls  of  some  grander  edifice  than  was 
about  us.  I  pointed  it  out  to  Macklome,  and  asked  him  what 
it  was. 

"That  is  the  castle   of  the   graf.     He  is  the  owner  of  the 


SAINT  LEGER. 


357 


surrounding  domain,  and  to  him  each  cottager  makes  his  re- 
turns." He  continued,  cheerfully,  "  '  Unto  every  one  that 
hath  shall  be  given:'  but  let  me  tell  you,  of  all  the  souls  that 
inhabit  the  grafschaft,  he  is  the  most  unhappy.  I  know 
these  poor  peasants ;  there  is  scarcely  a  red-roofed  cot  with- 
in our  view  which  has  not,  at  one  time  or  another,  afforded 
me  shelter;  and  I  know  the  graf  too;  I  saved  his  life  —  at 
least  he  says  so  —  when  lingering  under  a  malignant  fever. 
The  peasant  is  happy  —  the  graf  is  miserable;  from  him  is 
'  taken  away  even  that  which  he  hath.'  It  is  an  excellent 
rule,  it  works  both  ways." 

My  companion  went  off  upon  some  other  topic,  but  I  was 
impressed  with  the  reflection,  that  even  in  this  life  the  favors 
of  Providence  are  dispensed  with  a  more  even  hand  than 
man  is  disposed  to  admit.  I  had  received  a  lesson  from  one' 
who  was  drifting,  a  solitary  waif,  upon  the  world.  How  cheer- 
ful he  was,  how  trustful,  how  ready  to  vindicate,  how  slow 
to  complain.     I  began  to  love  this  Robert  Macklorne. 

IX. 

We  descended  slowly  toward  the  inn.  Arriving  there, 
we  found  a  carriage  before  the  door,  with  outriders  and  ser- 
vants in  livery  in  attendance.  The  new-comers  were  two 
ladies.  They  had  alighted,  and,  as  Macklorne  ascertained, 
proceeded  at  once  to  a  private  apartment.  Feeling  no  curiosity 
on^he  subject,  I  inquhed  of  Catharine  what  room  I  was  to 
have,  thinking  to  rest  a  while  before  starting  upon  a  short  ex- 
cursion, which  my  companion  had  proposed. 

"  We  have  given  to  madame  and  the  fraulein  the  room 
of  Herr  Saint  Leger,"  said  Catharine,  modestly ;  "  it  is  but 
for  an  hour.  It  was  our  best  chamber.  Will  the  gentlemen 
step  into  the  next  one  for  a  little  while?" 


358  SAIN*  LEGER. 

I  willingly  assented,  and  passed  up  the  staircase  to  the 
apartment  pointed  out  by  the  pretty  hostess.  The  room  oc- 
cupied by  "  madame  and  the  fraulein"  was  at  the  head  of 
the  wide  staircase  which  I  was  to  ascend.  The  door  of  the 
room  was  open  ;  I  mechanically  glanced  into  it  while  passing, 
and  beheld,  standing  in  an  attitude  of  expectation  —  Leila 
Saint  Leger  !  Her  face  was  turned  toward  the  door,  and 
she  looked  earnestly  at  me  as  I  walked  by,  but  gave  not 
the  slightest  sign  of  recognition.  Almost  unconsciously  I 
went  directly  past,  and  entered  my  temporary  quarters. 
Here  was  a  new  dilemma.  The  door  of  my  chamber  was 
partly  open,  and  led  into  the  one  occupied  by  Leila.  I  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  At  first  I  wondered  why  she  at  such 
a  time  should  slight  me  ;  but  then  I  reflected  that  five  years 
had  wrought  a  great  change  upon  my  person.  My  frame 
was  developed,  and  I  was  larger  and  stouter  every  way. 
My  hair,  instead  of  being  short,  in  the  English  style,  was  worn 
after  the  manner  of  a  German  student ;  and  a  respectable 
beard  with  mustaches,  covered  the  chin  and  lips,  where 
nothing  was  perceptible  on  the  boy  of  sixteen. 


X. 

And  William  Henry  Saint  Leger,  do  you  recognise  your 
self?  Where  is  the  earnest,  believing  youth,  who,  child 
like,  prayed  as  his  mother  taught  him,  and  who,  though  un 
happy,  and  ill  at  ease,  believed  in  Christ  ? 

It  was  a  momentary  pang ;  it  passed  suddenly  away. 


SAINT  LEGER.  359 


XI. 

I  ceased  t )  reproach  my  cousin  for  the  imaginary  wrong, 
and  sitting  down  at  a  little  window  which  overlooked  the 
road,  busied  myself  with  watching  all  that  was  going  on  about 
the  house.  Leila  paced  up  and  down  her  chamber  with  an 
agitated  step. 

"  Strange  that  he  does  not  come,"  said  she  to  her  com- 
panion, whom  I  had  not  seen. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  other,  in  a  calm  voice,  "  it  is  not  yet 
time.     You  mistake  the  hour.     Have  patience." 

"Patience — patience  —  have  I  not  had  patience?  must  I 
not  have  patience  from  this  time  henceforth  1  Do  not  chido 
me ;  think  of  my  fate ;  think  of  this  meeting,  which  [  have 
nerved  myself  to  bear,  and  oh  !  —  think  of  Henry  !  Pa- 
tience !" 

At  this  moment  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  struck  my  ear, 
and  looking  out,  I  saw  a  horseman  galloping  down  the  road. 
He  never  slackened  his  speed  till  he  came  close  to  the  door 
of  the  inn,  when  he  brought  his  horse  to  a  stop  so  suddenlv, 
that  it  threw  the  animal  back  upon  his  haunches.  He  fluno- 
himself  off,  and  at  the  sign  from  one  of  the  liveried  servants, 
ran  hastily  up  the  staircase.  I  had  but  a  moment's  sight  of 
him.  He  was  tall,  well  formed,  with  light  hair,  and  an  agree- 
able countenance.  I  had  no  time  for  a  close  scrutiny.  The 
new  comer  dashed  up  the  stairs,  and  into  the  chamber,  and 
folded  Leila  in  his  arms.  I  could  hear  sobs  and  stifled  groans, 
and  then  a  kind  voice  in  expostulation ;  it  was  the  voice  of 
the  stranger  lady,  but  it  availed  not  —  at  least  she  appeared 
to  think  so  —  for  in  a  moment  or  two  she  rose,  went  out,  and 


360  SAINT  LKGER. 

left  the  lovers  together.  I  do  not  think  a  word  was  spoken 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  The  signs  of  deep  and  painful 
emotion  continued  the  whole  time,  and  I  began  to  find  my 
situation  awkward  enough.  I  could  not  shut  the  door,  for  it 
opened  into  the  room  they  occupied ;  I  would  not  go  out, 
because  I  wished  to — stay  in  :  so  I  kept  my  seat  by  the 
window. 

"Oh,  Leila!"  —  "Oh,  Henry!"  were  the  first  uttered 
words. 

"  Great  God  !  am  I  in  my  senses  ?  Leila  !  for  Heaven's 
sake  speak,  and  tell  me  that  I  am  dreaming !  Is  this  the 
meeting  at  the  trysting-place  ?  On  such  a  day  you  would 
return  ;  on  such  a  day  we  should  meet  here.  Heaven  !  what 
has  bereft  me  !  The  day  has  come  ;  this  is  the  place  and 
here  are  we ;  you  and  I,  are  both  here.  Am  I  not  with  you, 
Leila?  —  do  I  not  clasp  this  hand  as  I  was  wont?  —  does  not 
my  deep  heart  beat  as  always  for  you  ?  And  my  angel !  are 
you  not  here,  and " 

He  spoke  to  dull  ears.  Leila  Saint  Leger  had  swooned  in 
his  arms. 

Quick  as  thought  he  sprang  to  the  table  for  some  water, 
and  sprinkling  a  quantity  upon  her  face,  she  opened  her  eyes, 
and  exclaimed  faintly  :  "  Henry,  have  you  left  me  ?" 

"I  am  here,  dearest;  I  will  never  leave  you — never, 
never  —  I  swear  that  I  will  never  be  separated  from  you?" 

"  It  is  too  late.  1  must  keep  my  oath  !  I  promised  to 
meet  you  here,  and  I  have  fulfilled  my  promise,  though  1 
sink  under  it.  But  I  do  not  hink  of  that ;  I  have  confidence 
in  my  strength  to  suffer." 

"  Do  you  remember  our  last  meeting,  Leila  ?" 

"  Oh,  Henry,  do  not,  do  not  speak  of  what  has  been  !  I 
can  not  recall  the  past.  It  is  only  for  what  is  to  come  that  I 
have  nerved  myself." 


SAINT  LEGER.  361 

"  And  are  you  resolved  1" 

"  Immoveably  !  Henry,  we  suffer — together.  I  shall  love 
you  always,  but  we  meet  no  more  on  this  earth.  If  you  al- 
ways love  me,  then,  in  eternity  we  shall  be  blest.  I  have 
vowed  that  I  will  wed  the  Count  de  Vautrey ;  nothing  more ; 
I  shall  never  be  his  wife." 

The  conversation,  which  was  continued  half  an  hour,  I  can 
not  trust  myself  to  detail.  It  completely  unmanned  me.  At 
length  Leila's  companion  entered  the  room  and  announced 
that  it  was  time  to  return  to  Diesden. 

How  my  heart  ached  for  them !  It  seemed  as  if  I  might 
do  something ;  I  stepped  forward,  and  entered  the  apartment. 
"  So,  Leila  Saint  Leger,  you  do  not  notice  your  kinsman,  who 
is  travelling  the  world  over  after  you  !" 

She  turned  upon  me  a  look  full  of  wonder  and  terror.  "It 
is  my  own  cousin  William !"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  she 
clasped  her  arms  about  me  ;  "  here  is  another  sorrow." 

I  threw  one  ami  around  Leila ;  the  other  I  extended  to  her 
lover.  He  pressed  my  hand  in  silence.  "We  understood  each 
other. 

"  We  must  go,  my  child,"  said  the  lady  ;  and  Leila  rose  to 
leave  the  room.  The  young  man  approached  slowly,  and, 
bending  over  her,  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her  brow.  He  then 
turned  and  walked  in  silence  to  the  window.  I  saw  that  his 
eyes  were  almost  blinded  with  tears,  but  he  did  not  speak. 
I  assisted  Leila  to  the  carriage ;  her  companion  stepped  in, 
and,  accompanied  by  the  servants  and  outriders,  it  rolled 
awky. 

I  returned  to  the  chamber.  Leila's  friend  stood  where  I 
had  left  him,  gazing  with  a  vacant  eye  into  the  distance.  I 
approached  and  laid  my  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  He  started, 
looked  at  me  wistfully,  shook  his  head,  and  turned  again  to 
the  window. 


362 


SAINT  LEGEK. 


"  This  will  never  do,"  I  said,  in  as  cheerful  a  tone  as  I  could 
command.  "  I  want  to  serve  my  cousin  Leila.  In  serving 
her  I  find  that  I  serve  you." 

"  I  understand  you,  hut  she  is  unshaken  in  her  resolution. 
No  persuasion  can  influence  her." 

A  common  interest  makes  a  speedy  friendship.  We  sat 
down  together,  and  I  learned  the  history  of  the  love  affair. 


XII. 

Heinrich  WalleNroth  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished nobles  of  Prussia,  and  resided  at  Berlin.  Many 
years  hefore,  he  had  met  Leila  at  the  house  of  Madame  de 
Marschelin,  a  nohle  lady  of  Dresden,  related  by  marriage  to 
the  De  Soisson  family.  Her  husband  had  been  long  deceas- 
ed, and  Leila  Saint  Leger  had  lived  with  her  from  childhood, 
except  when  the  father  required  her  presence  at  St.  Kilda. 
The  connection  on  both  sides  was  unobjectionable,  and  Ma- 
dame de  Marschelin  did  not  consider  that  she  was  exceeding 
her  trust  to  favor  it,  especially  as  the  young  girl  would  re- 
quire, in  the  event  of  her  father's  death,  a  more  efficient  pro- 
tector. The  lovers  had  plighted  their  troth,  and  the  years 
ran  happily  along,  when  Leila  was  summoned  away.  What 
followed  I  was  already  acquainted  with,  from  her  letter.  She 
had  but  lately  arrived  in  Dresden,  and,  strange  as  it  was,  I 
was  witness  to  the  first  interview  between  the  two.  I  in- 
quired when  she  was  to  wed  the  count. 

"  The  day  after  the  morrow,"  said  Heinrich,  despairingly. 

"  Something  must  be  done  instantly."  I  exclaimed,  "  and 
what  is  done  must  be  done  with  Vautrey." 

"  Think  you  that  has  not  occurred  to  me  ?"  said  Heinrich  ; 
"  but  he  is  not  to  be  found.  I  have  searched  Dresden  through 
and  through  for  him.     By  the  Power  that  rules  above   us, 


SAINT  LEGER.  353 

oould  I  meet  him,  (understand  me,  he  should  have  an  even 
field,)  the  question  should  be  to  the  death !" 

"  You  would  probably  be  the  victim.  It  is  the  way  of  such 
things.  The  villain  is  usually  successful.  And  then,  what 
would  become  of  Leila  V 

"What  shall  we  do!"  exclaimed  Heinrich,  impatiently. 

"  Would  not  Vautrey  waive  his  privilege,  provided  Leila 
would  relinquish  to  him  a  portion  of  her  large  inheritance — 
or  the  whole,  if  a  part  should  not  satisfy  him  V 

"  I  do  not  believe  it.  Still,  it  is  worth  the  trial.  But,  even 
if  he  can  be  found,  who  will  propose  this  1" 

"  I  will,  much  as  I  dislike  the  office.  You  go  to  Dresden 
to-night  ?" 

"Yes;  without  delay." 

"  I  shall  stay  here.  I  will  be  in  town  by  ten  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning.     Where  shall  I  see  you  1" 

"  I  am  at  the  Stadt-Priissien." 

"It  is  where  I  am  to  lodge  myself.  My  luggage  has  al- 
ready gone  forward.  In  the  meantime,  find  Vautrey,  if  pos- 
sible." 

"  I  begin  to  have  a  little  hope.     Adieu." 

The  next  moment  Wallenroth  was  galloping  madly  toward 
the  city. 

XIII. 

I  descended  into  the  public  room,  and  found  Macklorne 
just  rising  from  a  game  of  chess  with  the  host.  He  had  been 
so  much  occupied  with  the  play  that  he  had  not  noticed  my 
long  absence.  On  the  contrary,  he  apologized  for  letting  the 
time  run  by  until  it  was  too  late  for  our  intended  excursion, 
but  proposed  a  short  walk  instead. 

We  sallied  out,  and  taking  an  opposite  direction  from  our 
previous  stroll,  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  new  beauties. 


364  SAINT  LEGER. 

I  felt  mysteriously  drawn  toward  my  new  acquaintance, 
and  resolved,  if  possible,  to  retain  him  in  my  company.  I 
therefore  narrated  to  him  what  had  passed  at  the  inn ;  giving, 
at  the  same  time,  enough  of  the  history  of  Leila  Saint  Leger 
to  interest  him  in  our  plans. 

"  Now,  my  dear  friend,"  continued  I, — "  for  friend  of  mine 
I  am  determined  you  shall  be — help  us  by  your  counsel.  In 
the  first  place,  I  must  be  in  Dresden  by  ten  o'clock  to-mor- 
row. It  is  nearly  thirty  miles.  In  England  it  would  be  but 
a  pleasant  ride  or  drive  before  breakfast ;  here,  in  this  delib- 
erate land,  it  is  an  affair  of  half  a  day." 

"  Leave  me  to  manage  that,"  cried  Macklorne,  who  enter- 
ed into  the  enterprise  with  the  glee  of  a  school-boy.  "  Leave 
me  to  manage  that.  The  honest  herr  has  a  very  decent  '  fuhr- 
werk ;'  and  although  his  horse  is  a  quadruped  of  the  last 
century,  yet  Catharine  has  a  fine  young  '  klepper,'  which  I 
know  she  will  allow  me  to  drive  to  Dresden ;  at  any  rate,  I 
will  try  for  it ;  and  if  the  worst  come  to  worst,  we  will  set 
out  to-night  and  walk  the  distance  in  seven  hours.  There 
now !  I  will  stay  by  you,  my  true  heart,  till  the  close  of  the 
play,  and  as  much  longer  as  you  choose." 

I  took  the  hand  which  Macklorne  in  the  warmth  of  the  mo- 
ment extended,  and  acknowledged  my  sense  of  his  kindness 
by  a  cordial  pressure.  So  strongly  reinforced  as  I  had  been 
since  the  morning,  I  began  to  take  courage. 

XIV.  , 

It  was  near  sunset,  and  we  turned  toward  the  inn.  The 
declining  glories  of  the  day  gave  a  softened  aspect  to  the 
landscape,  and  lent  a  new  charm  to  what  seemed  perfect  be- 
fore. 

As  we  approached  the  house  I  turned  to  take  another  look 


SAINT  LEGEK.  365 

at  the  prospect  we  bad  left.  I  beheld  two  horsemen  coming 
at  a  slow  p?ce  down  the  road.  Presently  they  overtook  and 
passed  us.  The  foremost  was  —  Laurent  de  Vautrey ;  the 
other  was  the  same  sinister-looking  wretch  who  was  his  at- 
tendant at  Glencoe.  Both  master  and  man  were  soiled  and 
travel-worn.  The  count  had  not  altered  as  much  as  one 
would  suppose,  considering  the  lapse  of  years.  His  hair, 
long  and  black,  hung  as  it  was  wont,  and  his  countenance  ex- 
hibited the  same  expression  of  secure  indifference,  coupled 
with  that  air  of  careless,  quiet  assurance,  so  generally  ac- 
quired by  a  certain  stamp  of  men  of  the  world. 

But  without  discussing  his  character  farther — fiend,  brute, 
devil  or  what  not — there  he  was.  "With  the  servant  the 
world  had  evidently  gone  harder.  His  appearance,  though 
quite  as  sinister  as  ever,  was  considerably  subdued ;  he  was . 
thinner  and  had  a  more  hang-knave  air.  Perhaps  he  was  in 
disgrace  that  morning  and  was  trying  to  look  contrite. 

As  they  came  up  with  us,  Vautrey  cast  a  searching  glance, 
not  at  me,  but  at  Macklorne.  The  latter  returned  it  with  an 
air  of  defiance.  At  the  moment  of  passing,  Vautrey  muttered 
to  him  "  Beware  !" 

"  It  is  for  you  to  beware,  Sir  Chevalier,"  returned  Mack- 
lorne.    "  I  am  upon  your  track  again." 

A  grim  look  of  hatred  was  the  only  return,  and  the  horse- 
men passed  on. 

"  Do  you  know  that  man  V  said  I. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  Chevalier  Montbeliard,  the  most  abandoned, 
the  most  unprincipled,  the  most  unscrupulous  roue  in  all  Eu- 
rope. He  hates  me  because  I  rescued  a  simple-hearted  girl 
from  his  clutches  before  he  had  accomplished  his  object :  it  is 
a  long  story,  at  another  time  you  shall  hear  it." 

"  Macklorne,  that  is  Count  Vautrey,  the  affianced  of  my 
cousin  Leila  Saint  Leger." 


366  SAINT  LEGER. 

"Now  may  God  forefend  !"  exclaimed  my  companion: 
"  Go,  cut  him  down  ;  kill,  murder,  assassinate  —  perish  your- 
self, perish  all  of  us — but  arrest  that  awful  doom  for  the  in- 
nocent !      Not  a  moment  should  be  lost ;  away,  let  us " 

Just  then  something  pulled  Macklorne  sharply  by  the 
sleeve.  "We  both  turned,  and  I  saw  an  object  the  most  hide- 
ous and  repulsive  I  had  ever  set  eyes  upon.  The  creature  — 
I  can  scarcely  call  it  human  — was  in  the  last  stages  of  desti- 
tution. His  body  was  covered  with  rags;  his  hair  had  ap- 
parently been  unshorn  for  years,  and  hung  in  matted  locks 
upon  his  shoulders,  mingling  with  his  grizzly  beard ;  his  head 
rested  upon  his  breast ;  his  frame  was  absolutely  bare  of  flesh, 
and  the  nails  upon  his  fingers  had  grown  to  be  like  bird's 
claws. 

"So,  so,  my  poor  fellow,  we  have  met  again  !"  said  my 
friend,  soothingly,  to  the  being  who  had  thus  suddenly  and  si- 
lently stolen  upon  us.  "  You  look  famished.  Deutschland 
does  not  agree  with  you.  I  wish  I  could  spare  you  enough 
to  make  you  comfortable  ;  here  —  it  is  the  best  I  can  do  ;"  and 
he  drew  out  a  few  groschens  from  his  pocket. 

"Let  me  see  if  I  can  not  do  something,"  said  I.  At  the 
sound  of  my  voice  the  object  raised  his  head ;  I  was  relieved 
to  find  that  he  could  raise  it ;  and  peered  at  me  with  the 
smallest,  keenest,  most  intensely  infernal  fiery-black  eyes  I 
ever  encountered.  And  yet,  all  this  may  have  been  the  effect 
of  misery  and  want. 

No  sooner  had  he  set  those  eyes  on  me,  than  he  uttered  a 
cry  and  extended  his  hand  eagei'ly  to  receive  the  promised 
alms.  I  drew  out  my  purse  and  extracted  some  silver.  But 
he  shook  his  head  impatiently  and  pointed  to  the  road,  as  if  in 
haste  to  get  on.  I  gave  my  purse  another  turn,  and  a  guinea 
and  two  thaler  pieces  rolled  out.  The  wretch  clutched  them 
as  if  with   desperation,  and  springing  past  me  rapidly,  made 


SAINT  LEGER.  367 

a  wild  gesture  to  Mackloi-ne,  and  setting  into  a  sort  of  trot, 
was  soon  out  of  sight. 

"  How  our  friends  accumulate,"  said  Macldorne.  "  Do 
not  look  so  surprised.  In  this  section,  transformed  and 
deformed  and  devil-formed  creatures  are  common  enough. 
The  devil-formed  on  horseback  and  the  wretch  on  foot. 
I  have  a  story  to  tell  you  about  this  too ;  but  not  now. 
I  must  go  and  provide  for  our  morning's  conveyance  ;  we 
must  set  off  by  five  o'clock. 

XV. 

There  are  certain  periods  when  events  seem  to  hasten  to 
their  consummation.  —  I  say  seem  to  hasten,  for  though  it  is 
but  short  work  to  reap  the  field  and  get  in  the  harvest,  yet 
how  slowly  did  the  seed  germinate,  the  leaves  sprout,  the 
blossoms  put  forth,  and  the  fruit  mature.  The  consummation 
is  sudden  nevertheless.  —  And  at  such  periods  how  rapidly 
the  scenes  change,  how  swiftly  one  after  another  the  actors 
glide  across  the  stage ;  how  strangely  circumstances  tend  to 
concentrate  everything  upon  some  one  hazard ;  aud  how  ir- 
resistible is  the  force  which  concentrates  ! 


XVI. 

The  toll-gate  that  day  had  been  the  neutral  ground.  What 
a  singular  grouping  —  had  the  several  characters  chanced  to- 
gether. But  they  were  not  thus  to  meet.  Another  act  of 
the  drama  remained.  A  last  scene  in  which  all  these  should 
assemble:  the  kind-hearted  but  complacent  matron  —  Leila 
and  her  lover — Vautrey  ana  the  beggar — Macklorne  and  I. 


SAINT  LEGER. 


XVII. 


"  All  ready  for  a  start,"  was  the  sammons,  twice  repeat- 
ed, in  the  clear  cheerful  voice  of  Macklorne,  which  awakened 
me  from  a  refreshing  sleep,  but  a  few  minutes,  apparently, 
after  I  had  fallen  into  it.  I  sprang  up,  and  for  a  moment  was 
lost  in  that  bewildering  unconsciousness  of  time,  and  circum- 
stance, which  often  attends  the  slumberer  when  suddenly  rous- 
ed in  a  strange  place.  I  looked  around  the  room ;  the  curtains 
were  drawn  across  the  windows,  so  that  it  was  quite  dark  ;  I 
put  forth  my  hand  to  grasp  the  nearest  object ;  I  strained  my 
eyes  to  discern  a  familiar  one.  "  Sleeper — sleeper — almost 
five  o'clock — a  hot  cup  of  coffee  ready,  and  no  time  to  be 
lost  —  come,  come !"  brought  me  to  my  senses  and  out  of  the 
bed  at  the  same  instant. 

"  I  will  be  wish  you  in  five  minutes,"  cried  I. 

"  You  shall  have  ten,"  replied  Macklorne,  good-humoredly, 
as  he  made  his  way  down  the  stairs.  I  stepped  to  the  win- 
dow, and,  drawing  aside  the  curtains,  threw  it  open  and  looked 
out.  The  air  was  cool  and  fragrant ;  the  dawn  was  percep- 
tible by  a  few  faint  lines  which  streaked  over  the  east ;  every- 
thing was  still,  except  that  there  were  occasional  signs  of  re- 
turning animation  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  poultry-yard, 
while  the  bark  of  a  dog,  from  a  distant  cottage,  was  answered 
at  intervals  by  the  mastiff  of  mine  host. 

At  the  door  of  the  inn  stood  the  "  fuhrwerk,"  before  which 
was  harnessed  the  smart  "  keppel"  of  the  kind-hearted  Cath- 
arine. 


SAINT  LEGER.  369 


XVIII. 

I  dressed  myself  quickly,  and  hastened  down  to  the  public 
room,  where  the  table  was  already  laid  for  us,  with  boiled 
eggs,  rolls,  and  fresh  butter.  I  found  my  companion  in  as 
cheerful  a  humor  as  ever,  enjoying,  with  great  zest,  the  idea 
of  our  morning's  expedition.  In  two  or  three  minutes  Cath- 
arine herself  entered  with  the  coffee,  her  natural  German 
quietness  entirely  forsaking  her,  under  the  excitement  of  this 
novel  enterprise.  We  soon  despatched  the  morning  meal ; 
and,  after  parting  salutations  with  the  young  hostess,  we  drove 
off. 

I  found  that  Macklorne  had  perfected  all  his  arrangements, 
for  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  nestled  an  urchin,  who  was  to 
take  the  conveyance  back  from  Dresden. 


XIX. 

We  went  on  for  a  little  while  without  a  word  being  spoken. 
At  length  Macklorne  broke  the  silence:  "What  is  your 
plan?" 

"  I  have  matured  none,"  said  I.  "  I  am  to  meet  Heinrich 
Wallenroth  at  the  Stadt-Priissien  as  soon  as  we  get  to  town ; 
in  the  meantime,  I  would  advise  with  you." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said,  in  a  half  playful,  half  serious  tone, 
"  let  us  resolve,  in  the  first  place,  that  Montbeliard,  or  Vau- 
trey,  as  you  name  him,  shall  not  marry  your  cousin  ;  and, 
secondly,  let  us  discuss  the  various  means  to  be  adopted  to 
carry  out  the  resolution."  Suddenly  changing  his  tone,  he 
continued  :  "  I  know  this  Vautrey  ;  he  is  the  only  human  be- 
24 


370  SAINT  LEGER. 

ing  toward  whom  I  have  a  settled  and  unalterable  feeling  of 
abhorrence.  It  would  be  a  charity  to  plunge  a  dagger  into 
your  cousin's  heart,  rather  than  give  her  up  to  him." 

"But  if  Leila  is  determined,  in  consequence  of " 

"  I  care  not  for  that,"  interrupted  Macklorne.  "  She  must 
De  forcibly  prevented  ;  then  she  can  not  reproach  herself." 

"  How  shall  we  find  Vautrey  ?" 

"  I  will  find  him  in  two  hours  after  we  get  to  Dresden," 
returned  my  friend. 

"  And  what  after  he  is  found  V 

"  I  should  be  tempted  to  destroy  him,"  said  Macklorne, 
"  but  that  must  not  be.  Let  us  see  what  you  can  effect  with 
your  cousin  ;  after  that  we  will  turn  to  the  count.  And  re- 
member, I  hold  myself  bound  to  you,  as  knight  or  squire,  as 
principal  or  second,  against  one  or  against  a  thousand,  in 
single  fight  or  in  the  melee,  rescue  or  no  rescue,  unto  the 
death." 

The  conversation  was  carried  on  with  animation,  and  with 
that  peculiar  confidence  produced  by  congenial  feelings,  and 
a  unity  of  purpose. 


XX. 

In  this  way  we  drove  along ;  the  road  was  familiar  to  my 
companion,  who  often  turned  aside  into  pleasant  lanes  and  by- 
paths, in  order  to  shorten  the  distance.  At  first,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  cottages  were  just  rising  as  we  passed;  after  a 
while,  we  witnessed,  through  the  windows,  active  preparations 
for  breakfast ;  farther  on,  they  were  partaking  of  the  meal, 
and  soon  were  seen  commencing  upon  the  labors  of  the  day. 

A  few  minutes  before  ten  we  reached  Dresden.  We  stop- 
ped at  a  small  inn  before  we  came  to  the  better  part  of  the 
town.    Leaving  the  lad  to  procure  refreshment  for  himself  and 


SAIN2   LEGER.  37J 

horse,  and  return  to  the  halfway  house,  we  walked  on  to- 
gether a  short  distance,  when  Macklorne,  after  giving  me 
general  directions  by  which  I  could  find  the  Stadt-Prussien, 
and,  promising  to  be  with  me  in  two  hours,  crossed  over, 
turned  down  a  narrow  street  and  d  sappeared. 


XXI. 

I  proceeded  to  make  my  way  to  the  hotel,  which  I  reached 
•after  a  walk  of  half  a  mile,  having  once  or  twice  missed  the 
direct  course.  Wollenroth  was  standing  on  the  steps,  anx- 
iously gazing  at  each  person  who  passed.  He  greeted  me  as 
if  we  had  been  friends  from  childhood  ;  but  dejection  and 
despair  were  in  his  look. 

"  She  will  not  see  me,"  he  said  ;  "  My  friend,  what  can  be 
done?  From  this  day,  life  has  no  charm — death  no  terror. 
Do  not  desert  me  ;  I  put  myself  in  your  hands  ;  only  act — 
act,  for  Heaven's  sake." 

We  went  into  a  private  room,  and  sat  down  together  ;  he 
became  more  composed,  and  informed  me  that  Leila  feared 
another  meeting  would  be  more  than  she  could  bear,  that  he 
had  taken  neither  food  nor  rest  since  he  left  me,  but  had 
walked  up  and  down  the  streets  the  whole  night,  and  only 
came  to  the  hotel  to  meet  his  appointment. 


XXII. 

For  a  few  moments  I  felt  altogether  at  a  loss.  Heinrich 
seemed  to  depend  entirely  upon  me,  and  I  found  myself,  as  it 
were  unconsciously,  falling  back  upon  Macklorne.  I  began  to 
think  over  the  whole  affair  with  seriousness.  I  tried  to  sur- 
vey it  in  a  practical,  matter-of-fact  way.  How  should  I  act? 
What  could  I   do?     How  far  ought   I   to  interfere?     Leila 


372  SAINT  LEGEK. 

was  the  betrothed  of  Vautrey  by  the  solemn  appointment  of  a 
dying  father,  and  who  could  tell  what  might  depend  upon  the 
fulfilment  of  the  troth  1  On  the  other  side,  the  conviction  that 
it  was  obtained  by  fraud  ;  the  absolute  abhorrence  of  Leila  to 
the  count,  and  her  repugnance  to  the  union ;  the  complete  sacri- 
fice it  would  effect  of  two  young  spirits,  made  me  consider 
almost  any  course  justifiable  to  relieve  them.  I  thought  of 
the  interview  I  had  witnessed  between  Leila  and  Vautrey  in 
St.  Kilda ;  of  the  scorn  with  which  she  then  dismissed  him 
from  her  presence ;  of  his  threat,  and  of  her  proud  defiance. 
A  chill  ran  through  me  as  I  contemplated  the  end.  My  visit 
to  St.  Kilda,  my  interviews  with  Leila,  our  relationship,  her 
apparent  fate,  crowded  tumultuously  upon  me.  Must  one  so 
young,  so  fair,  so  noble,  be  destroyed  without  an  effort  in  her 
behalf?  "What  if  she  conscientiously  insists  on  keeping  the 
promise  to  her  father  —  shall  those  not  bound  tamely  witness 
the  sacrifice  1  I  was  roused  also  to  attempt  something,  by  the 
resolute  tone  of  Macklorne.  The  careless,  cheerful,  but  hon- 
est and  clear-sighted  wanderer,  on  this  occasion  threw  aside 
his  humor,  gayety,  and  indifference,  for  an  unconquerable  re- 
solve. But  I  was  a  stranger  in  Dresden ;  I  knew  no  one  in 
the  town  save  Wallenroth,  who  did  not  himself  reside  there ; 
and  so  had  to  ask  again  :  "  What  can  we  do  V 

Wallenroth  was  really  incapable  of  advising.  The  blow 
ha;l  fallen  so  suddenly  that  he  was  stunned.  I  repeated  some 
word3  of  comfort,  but  they  seemed  tame  and  commonplace. 
I  assured  him  I  would  devote  myself  to  the  cause  of  Leila, 
but  felt  that  my  efforts  were  insignificant.  I  tried  to  cheer 
him,  but  only  became  myself  the  more  dejected.  At  length 
I  entreated  him  to  seek  repose.  This  he  refused,  until  I  sug- 
gested that  he  would  need  all  his  strength  to  carry  out  the 
plan  we  wei*e  to  consummate,  when  he  took  some  refresh- 
ment and  attempted  to  sleep. 


SAINT  LEGER.  373 


XXVIII. 

I  had  sometime  to  wait  before  I  should  meet  Macklorne, 
but  I  could  not  occupy  it. 

I  had  anticipated  pleasure  on  entering  the  brilliant  capital 
of  Saxony.  Here  was  a  check  to  every  feeling  like  enjoy- 
ment. How  different  my  thoughts  from  those  I  indulged  in 
but  the  day  previous,  when,  enchanted  with  the  idea  of  throw- 
ing myself  upon  the  world,  I  set  out  from  Leipsic,  and 
climbed  with  Macklorne  the  vine-clad  hills  with  an  unbound- 
ed sense  of  freedom  in  the  prospect.  My  life-motto  came  to 
my  mind  : 

Seel  mihi  res,  noil  me  rebus,  submitlere  conor. 

"  I  will  not  yield  to  the  circumstance,"  I  exclaimed,  aloud; 
"  it  may  effect  my  course  of  action,  but  myself — never. 
Courage  !  our  cause  is  a  good  one."  Before  the  time  ex- 
pired for  Macklorne's  appearance  I  had  regained  my  equa- 
nimity, and  was  ready  to  act  with  resolution. 

XXIX. 

Mv  friend  had  been  as  good  as  his  word.  He  had 
discovered  where  Vautrey  lodged,  but  evaded  my  inquiry 
when  I  asked  how  he  had  done  so.  I  told  him  briefly  what 
had  passed  between  Wollenroth  and  myself,  and  we  concluded, 
as  the  only  alternative,  that  I  should  visit  the  count,  without 
delay,  for  we  could  decide  on  nothing  until  we  knew  the 
position  he  would  assume. 


374  SAINT  LEGER. 


XXX 


I  directed  my  steps  to  No.  —  in  the  Konig  Strasse. 
My  last  interview  with  Vautrey  had  been  when  interested  for 
the  safety  of  Glenfinglas,  I  went  to  request  him  to  abstain 
from  an  affray.  The  last  time  I  had  seen  him  (except  on 
the  previous  day)  was  when,  after  being  hurled  from  the  cliffs 
by  Donacha  Maclan,  he  was  drawn  up,  bleeding  and  insensible. 

I  could  not  decide  in  what  way  to  approach  him.  I  thought 
it  best  to  leave  that  until  I  should  learn  the  nature  of  my  re- 
ception. Arrived  at  his  lodgings,  which  were  in  the  finest 
part  of  the  town,  I  sent  my  name  to  the  count,  and  was 
presently  waited  upon  by  his  old  valet  and  requested  to  step 
into  his  private  room.  1  found  him  in  a  rich  dressing  gown, 
in  an  easy  chair ;  the  room  in  disorder :  having  the  appear- 
ance of  preparation  for  a  journey  or  removal.  Articles  of 
fancy,  destined  apparently  for  a  lady,  were  scattered  around, 
and  everything  exhibited  an  unsettled  state  of  things. 

As  I  entered,  Vautrey  rose  and  came  toward  me.  Holding 
out  his  hand,  he  said,  "  This  is  I  presume  the  Mr.  Saint  Leger 
I  met  in  Scotland,  although  I  should  not  now  recognise  you. 
We  are  older — both  of  us — than  we  were  five  years  ago. 
I  remember  there  were  words  between  us.  I  will  say,  let 
them  be  forgotten.  I  suppose  you  come  to  be  present  at  the 
bridal.     You  have  lived  some  time  in  Leipsic,  I  believe." 

This  was  spoken  naturally  and  without  effort,  while  he  re- 
tained my  hand  which  it  was  impossible  for  me  not  to  have 
extended  to  meet  his  own.  "  But  sit  down,"  he  continued, 
"  Miguel,  some  wine.  When  have  you  heard  from  our  Scot- 
tish friends;  do  yon  fancy  that  bewitching  Ella  as  much  as 


SAINT  LEGER.  37 

ever,  or  have  you  lost  your  heart  here,  where  maidens  are 
more  amiable,  if  not  more  captivating.  Seriously,  how  are 
your  friends  at  home,  and  how  are  you  ?" 

I  was  mastered  at  the  outset  by  the  careless  freedom,  ease, 
ready  appreciation  and  cleverness  of  this  profound  dissimu- 
lator. His  practical  world-knowledge  seemed  an  over-match 
for  the  book-wisdom  of  the  student.  I  felt  that  there  was  a  force 
brought  into  the  field,  against  which  T  had  none  similar  to 
oppose  ;  and  that  I  was  in  danger  of  losing  the  day,  not 
from  want  of  strength  to  conduct  the  contest,  but  from  loss 
of  the  vantage  ground.  A  straight  forward  course  was 
the  only  one  for  me  to  pursue.  As  soon  therefore  as  Vautrey 
paused  in  his  inquiries,  I  replied,  quietly,  that  my  friends  at 
home  were  well,  that  I  had  not  come  to  Dresden  to  attend 
the  bridal,  but  to  see  what  I  could  do  to  prevent  it,  and  to 
that  end  had  in  the  first  instance  called  upon  him.  I  went  on 
to  say  (Vautrey  showing  no  signs  of  impatience),  that  I  be- 
lieved the  proposed  union  would  make  Leila  miserable,  and 
that  I  trusted,  unpleasant  as  the  truth  might  be,  he  was  inca 
pable  of  destroying  the  happiness  of  so  lovely  a  creature  by 
insisting  on  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise  made  to  soothe  the  last 
moments  of  a  dying  father. 

He  listened  with  composure,  until  T  finished.  I  had  ex- 
pected to  be  interrupted  but  he  had  learnt  the  lesson  of  ab- 
solute control.  "  Saint  Leger,"  he  now  said,  "  you  expect  to 
see  me  angry — most  men  would  be  so  —  at  this  unwarranta- 
ble interference  between  Leila  and  myself;  for  I  can  not  pre- 
sume that  you  have  her  sanction  in  calling  upon  me ;"  1 
shook  my  head  ;  "  but,"  he  proceeded,  "  I  am  not  angry ; 
I  have  lived  too  long  to  be  angry ;  besides  I  take  what  you 
have  said  in  good  part,  believing  that  you  are  honest.  I  will 
be  equally  frank  with  you.  I  have  lived  in  the  world  and 
have  had  my  pleasure  in   it ;   I  have  gratified  my  senses,  I 


376 


SAINT  LEGER. 


have  pleased  my  tastes  ;  what  wealth  could  purchase  or  health 
could  enjoy  I  have  possessed ;  I  have  never  missed  my  aim, 
nor  been  cheated  of  desired  revenge ;  I  have  been  successful 
with  women  and  have  defied  men  ;  the  world  has  been  my 
minister  and  it  has  served  me  faithfully; — for  all  that,  at  six- 
and-twenty  I  am  sated — these  things  no  longer  attract  or 
pleasure  me.  I  seek  some  new  life,  I  search  for  a  new  enjoy- 
ment, and  I  would  find  it  with  Leila  Saint  Leger.  She  is 
mine,"  —  and  his  eyes  glistened  with  triumph,  in  spite  of  his 
cool  manner — "mine,  by  everything  that  can  make  oaths 
binding.  Through  life  I  have  pursued  her,  and  now  she 
shall  not  escape  me.  Do  not  think,  however,  that  I  would 
sacrifice  her.  I  know  the  sex.  She  will  at  first  resist  my 
approaches,  she  will  be  unhappy,  she  will  not  love  me  ; 
but  time  will  cure  all  this.  You  do  not  taste  your  wine  — 
come,  drink  to  my  happy  union  with  your  cousin." 

"  Excuse  me,  count,  but  as  I  have  broached  a  disagreeable 
subject,  let  me  finish  it.  What  you  say  does  not  alter  my 
opinion,  that  Leila's  happiness  is  now  irrevocably  at  stake, 
and  that,  as  a  man  of  honor,  you  should  release  her  from  the 
promise  that  binds  her.  I  perceive  you  will  not  yield.  Are 
there  no  considerations  which  I  could  urge  to  change  your 
decision?" 

"  What  mean  you  V  he  asked,  quickly,  while  a  slight  red 
spot  glowed  on  either  cheek. 

"Your  fortune  is  ample,  count,  as  you  have  said;  but  it 
might  be  doubled." 

"  By  Heaven,  you  shall  pay  for  this !"  he  exclaimed,  starting 
to  his  feet :  "  but  no,  there  shall  be  no  more  violence,"  he 
said,  in  a  lower  tone,  as  he  resumed  his  seat.  "  I  understand 
you,  Saint  Leger,  but  you  do  not  understand  me ;  you  have 
had  little  opportunity  to  know  me,  and  I  acquit  you  of  inten- 
tional insult.     Others  may   call   me   what   lliey  will  :   unscru- 


SAINT  LEGER.  377 

pulous,  abandoned,  a  debauchee,  a  villain;  but  in  this  business 
I  have,  as  I  said  to  you,  a  new  purpose,  a  new  hope.  I  tell 
you,  I  have  set  my  life  upon  this  venture,  and  with  my  life 
only  will  I  abandon  it.  Say  no  more  to  me.  Leila,  I  know, 
does  not  authorize  this  application ;  you  can  not  get  her  con- 
sent to  your  interference  ;  but  I  give  you  credit  for  good  pur- 
poses, else  I  had  not  listened  a  moment.  As  it  is,  you  must 
be  satisfied.  I  offer  you  my  hand  again  ;  I  do  not  ask  you  to 
pledge  me  in  the  glass ;  let  the  wine  remain  untasted,  if  you 
will  have  it  so,  but — you  are  the  nearest  relative  Leila  has 
upon  the  continent  —  will  you  not  be  present  at  the  cere- 
mony 1  It  will  take  place  to-morrow  evening  at  seven,  pre- 
cisely, in  the  cathedral." 

"  I  will  be  there,  count.  Good  morning."  I  turned  and 
left  the  room. 

XXXI. 

On  the  way  to  my  hotel  I  revolved  this  interview,  to  dis- 
cover a  clue  to  the  unexpected  conduct  of  Vautrey.  I  came 
to  the  conviction  that  he  had,  in  a  manner,  spoken  truth  with 
regard  to  himself.  He  had  run  so  completely  the  round  of 
pleasures,  that  they  sickened  rather  than  gratified  :  his  life 
had  been  so  continually  spent  in  making  enemies,  and  in  op- 
posing them,  that  he  was  tired  of  strife,  and  longed  to  be  at 
peace.  It  was  especially  undesirable  to  provoke  a  quarrel  at 
the  present  time,  when  his  plans  were  about  to  be  realized 
and  particularly  dangerous  to  excite  me  to  further  opposition. 
Such  being  his  feelings  and  position,  his  conduct  —  taking  into 
view  his  adroitness  to  adapt  himself  to  occasions,  without 
scruple — was  easily  explained. 

Although  foiled  in  my  object,  I  was  not  deceived.  But, 
without  some  assent  to  our  action  from  Leila,  what,  after  all, 
could  be  done  1     As  it  was,  she  was  resolutely  determined  to 


378  SAINT  LEGER. 

prevent  any  interference  in  her  behalf.  And  so,  thought  I, 
Laurent  de  Vautrey  triumphs  at  last !  this  is  the  reward  of  a 
life  of  wickedness  !  after  he  is  satisfied  with  everything  the 
senses  can  enjoy ;  after  years  of  debauchery  and  violence,  he 
is  to  lay  hold  on  the  only  happiness  that  remains,  and  to  pos- 
sess the  only  object  he  desires.  A  thoughtless  reproach  of 
Providence  was  about  to  escape  my  lips,  but  I  restrained  it. 


XXXII. 

Leila,  then,  was  to  be  sacrificed.  How  little  really  did 
Vautrey  know  of  woman's  nature ;  how  mistaken  was  he  in 
supposing  his  had  been  the  school  in  which  to  learn  it.  Be- 
fore reaching  the  Stadt-Priissien,  I  had  formed  a  new  design ; 
I  would  make  an  effort  to  see  my  cousin,  and  try  what  per- 
suasion would  do.  Taking  a  carriage,  I  drove  to  the  house 
of  Madame  de  Marschelin.  She  was  at  home,  and  I  thought  it 
best  to  obtain  what  information  I  could  from  her.  This  lady 
was  one  of  those  fortunate  persons  with  whom  the  world  al- 
ways goes  smoothly  ;  "hough  kind-hearted  and  amiable,  she 
had  not  soul  enough  U>  suffer  from  any  occurrence  that  was 
likely  to  happen.  She  could  not  understand  the  calamity 
which  had  now  fallen  upon  the  lovers,  or  the  agony  it  brought 
with  it.  I  found  little  satisfaction  in  my  conversation  with  her. 
She  was  distressed  that  Leila  was  so  unhappy.  She  wondered 
how  her  father  could  have  been  so  cruel ;  but  fathers  were  cruel 
sometimes ;  at  least  young  girls  were  apt  to  think  so;  not  that 
Leila  thought  so  ;  she  was  a  sweet  creature,  a  pattern  of  obedi- 
ence; she  loved  her  as  if  she  were  her  own  child — she  was 
sure  she  did.  Who  could  tell  but  it  was  best  so  ?  Count  Vau- 
trey was  of  a  noble  family ;  he  was  said  to  be  too  gay ;  but, 
doubtless,  he  would  reform.  I  grew  faint  under  this  good- 
natured  exhibition  of  heartlessness,  and  without  attempting  to 


SAINT  LEGER.  379 

prolong  the  interview,  asked  if  I  could  see  my  cousin.  Ma- 
dame de  Marschelin  regretted  that  it  was  impossible,  "  Leila, 
poor  child,  would  see  no  one."  At  length  I  prevailed  upon 
madame  to  take  to  her  a  note,  in  these  words : 

"  Leila,  I  must  see  you  before  the  ceremony.  I  claim  this 
as  your  kinsman  and  natural  protector." 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned,  with  the  following  : 

"  It  is  impossible  —  do  not  urge  it." 

"  I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  said  her  guardian  :  "  Dear  child, 
how  firm !  well,  I  suppose  it  is  all  for  the  best." 

XXXIII. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon ;  sick  at  heart,  exhausted  by 
fatigue,  weak  for  want  of  food — having  tasted  nothing  since 
my  early  breakfast  at  the  halfway  house  —  I  returned  to  the 
Stadt-Priissien.  There  I  found  Macklorne  and  AVallenroth, 
impatiently  waiting  for  me.  The  former  had  evidently  been 
exerting  himself  to  sustain  his  companion,  and,  in  so  doing,  as- 
sumed a  cheerfulness  which  he  could  not  feel.  I  gave  a  re- 
port of  my  own  movements,  which  seemed  to  take  away  what 
remained  of  hope  —  yet  Macklorne  would  not  despair.  There 
is  another  day  left.  Providence  will  not  desert  us;  let  us 
hope  yet.  An  ample  dinner,  prepared  by  the  considerate 
directions  of  Macklorne,  was  in  readiness ;  and  after  it,  over- 
come by  fatigue  of  body  and  mind,  we  all  retired. 

XXXIV. 

Through  the  night  I  was  oppressed  with  dreams  and  night- 
mare. At  one  time  I  was  at  home  in  Warwickshire,  listen- 
ing with  a  heavy  heart  to  the  arguments  of  De  Lisle ;  then 
suddenly  transported  to  St.  Kilda,  where,  losing  my  footing,  I 
seemed   falling   from  the  cliffs   of  Conagra  into   the   foaming 


380  SAINT  LEGER. 

abyss  below ;  next  I  was  at  Glencoe,  bending  over  the 
wounded  Glenfinglas,  while  fierce  black  eyes  glowered  at  me 
from  the  adjoining  thicket ;  and  then  I  was  walking  in  the 
professor's  garden,  with  Theresa  Von  Hofrath,  and  while  en- 
joying her  companionship,  Leila  came  running  down  the 
walk  pursued  by  Vautrey,  and  implored  my  protection.  The 
violence  of  the  appeal  awoke  me.  Starting  up,  I  discovered 
that  it  was  not  yet  day.  But,  I  could  sleep  no  more.  The 
leaden  weight  that  had  oppressed  me  when  a  child  now  sat 
upon  my  heart.  Memory,  of  all  the  faculties,  was  most 
wakeful.  I  revolved  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  ;  I  thought 
of  my  mother  and  her  gentle  counsels  ;  I  essayed  to  repeat 
the  little  prayers  she  used  to  teach  me  ;  and  Conscience  then 
whispered  that  I  had  sinned  against  God,  and  my  own  soul, 
but  I  controlled  myself  and  was  calm.  I  resolved  not  to 
yield  to  nervous  fears  or  to  be  miserable  without  a  cause. 
Then,  I  thought,  I  would  commend  myself  to  God  and  sum- 
mon Faith  to  my  assistance.  I  tried,  and  —  could  not.  At 
length  I  remembered  where  I  was,  and  for  what,  and  my 
mind  sought  relief  in  thinking  what  might  yet  be  done  for 
Leila.  Thus  occupied,  I  lay  till  it  was  quite  light,  when  I 
rose,  dressed,  and  went  down. 


XXXV. 

Macklorne  was  up  before  me.  Wallenroth,  he  said, 
after  a  most  unquiet  night,  had  just  fallen  asleep.  At  the 
end  of  considerable  discussion  we  concluded  we  had  done  all 
which  could  be  done,  without  Leila's  assistance  ;  but  that  we 
would  be  present  at  the  marriage  ceremony,  ready  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  anything  favorable  to  our  hopes.  As  a  last  ex- 
pedient I  despatched  a  note  to  Leila,  stating  our  design,  beg- 
ging she  would  still  reconsider  her   decision,  and  giving  as- 


SAINT  LEGER.  381 

surances  that  at  the  last  moment  even,  we  should  be  ready  to 
rescue  her.  I,  myself,  knew  too  well  her  resolute  spirit  to 
believe  anything  could  alter  her  determination. 


XXXVI. 

The  time  passed  gloomily.  We  did  not  separate;  but 
continued  to  discuss  one  project  after  another,  with  feverish 
excitement.  We  walked  about  the  town,  we  visited  the 
cathedral,  we  went  up  to  the  altar,  and  stood  where  Vautrey 
and  Leila  were  to  stand.  We  even  selected  the  place  whence 
we  should  ourselves  observe  the  ceremonial ;  Heinrich  ac- 
quiescing, as  one  to  whom  everything  had  become  indifferent. 
Afterward,  restless  and  impatient,  we  paced  up  and  down 
the  street. 

XXXVII. 

The  day  was  spent.  The  hour  arrived  which  should  give 
Leila  Saint  Leger  to  Laurent  de  Vautrey.  A  few  minutes 
before  this,  Wallenroth,  Macklorne,  and  myself,  had  taken 
our  places  by  a  small  chapel  on  the  left  of  the  altar.  The 
immense  wax  candles  around  it  were  burning ;  they  emitted 
no  cheerful  light,  but  added  to  the  gloom  which  pervaded  the 
cathedral.  After  a  few  minutes  two  carriages  drove  up,  and 
presently  Leila  entered,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  Madame  de 
Marsclielin,  followed  closely  by  Vautrey.  Several  attendants 
on  either  side  waited  at  the  door  within  the  church. 

As  Leila  advanced,  my  eyes  were  fastened  upon  her.  I 
endeavored  to  mark  some  sign  of  wavering  purpose,  but 
could  not ;  her  face  was  very  pale,  but  her  step  was  firm,  her 
form  erect,  her  air  composed  and  dignified — she  would  do 
nothing  even  in  appearance  to  violate  the  spirit  of  her  prom- 
ise.    Vautrey,  too,  bore  himself  with  an  easy  elegance,  which, 


382  SAINT  LEGER. 

under  other  circumstances,  would  have  challenged  my  admira- 
tion. An  anxious  furtive  glance  thrown  around  the  gloomy 
chapels  and  recesses  of  the  cathedral,  however,  gave  evidence 
of  some  perturbation  of  spirit.  They  approached  the  altar 
together.  For  an  instant  I  turned  to  look  at  my  companions. 
Wallenroth  seemed  stupified,  and  was  gazing  vacantly  on  the 
scene  ;  Macklorne,  on  the  contrary,  was  excited  to  an  almost 
incredible  degree ;  a  frown  was  upon  his  brow ;  his  eves 
shone  with  fierceness;  his  form  was  dilated;  his  breathing 
distinctly  audible,  The  sound  of  the  priest's  voice  brought 
my  attention  back  to  the  parties  ;  up  to  this  moment  I  was 
calm ;  now  a  tremor  seized  me,  a  giddy  sensation  oppressed 
me,  and  I  leaned  against  one  of  the  columns  for  support. 

XXXVIII. 

The  ceremony  went  on  —  the  moments  to  me  seemed  ages; 
the  responses  had  been  demanded  and  were  made  by  Leila, 
in  a  firm  unwavering  voice ;  and  the  priest  had  taken  the 
ring  in  order  to  complete  the  rite.  At  this  moment,  a  moan 
at  my  side  caused  me  to  turn  ;  Wallenroth  had  sunk  down  in- 
sensible. The  priest  paused,  startled  by  the  interruption  ; 
a  gesture  from  Vautrey  recalled  him  to  his  duty ;  but  now  a 
slight  disturbance  was  heard,  proceeding  from  the  entrance  ; 
the  noise  increased  —  the  priest  paused  again  —  when  a  hide- 
ous creature  with  the  aspect  of  a  fiend,  darted  swiftly  for- 
ward, and  before  one  could  say  what  it  was,  lighted  with  a 
single  bound  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  count.  I  saw  the 
glitter  of  steel  aloft,  and  flashing  suddenly  downward ;  I  saw 
Vautrey  fall  heavily  upon  the  mosaic  —  dead.  His  execu- 
tioner crouched  a  moment  over  him,  with  a  brute  fierceness ; 
then  drew  the  dirk  from  the  wound,  and  as  drops  of  blood 
fell    from    its   point,    sprang    quickly    toward    me,    shaking 


SAINT    LEGEll.  333 

the  weapon  with  a  wild  and  triumphant  air,  and  exclaiming 
"  Tat's  petter  dune."  The  truth  flashed  upon  me  —  I  beheld 
in  the  repulsive  wretch  before  me  the  creature  we  had  en- 
countered at  the  toll-gate  —  the  wild  savage  seen  at  St.  Kilda 
—  the  fierce  cataran  of  the  highlands,  the  leal  subject  of  Glen- 
finsflas  —  Donacha  Mac  Ian. 


XXXIX. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  suddenness  with  which  all 
this  took  place.  A  scene  of  confusion  ensued;  the  party 
about  the  door  ran  in  and  secured  the  miserable  Donacha, 
who  indeed  made  no  resistance. 

Macklorne  rushed  forward  and  bent  over  the  body  of  the 
murdered  man ;  Wallenroth's  senses  returned  and  he  was  at 
Leila's  side.  She  herself,  though  nearly  overcome  by  the 
horror  of  the  scene,  looked  as  if  breathing  grateful  thanks  to 
Heaven. 

Madame  de  Marschelin  was  for  a  moment  in  bodily  terror 
of  the  assassin  ;  that  removed,  she  became  composed  and  re- 
marked that  it  was  an  awful  visitation  of  Providence.  The 
priest  was  nowhere  to  be  seen;  he  had  fled  into  a  private 
recess,  and  did  not  appear  till  satisfied  all  danger  was  past. 
For  myself,  I  stood  and  surveyed  the  spectacle.  All  that  I 
had  ever  known  of  Leila  and  of  Vautrey  passed,  as  a  single 
thought,  through  my  mind;  another  seal  was  set  to  a  life- 
impression.  What  was  man.  proud  man  in  the  hands  of  the 
Almighty?  How  futile  his  plans  —  how  vain  his  hopes — 
how  mysterious  his  end  ! 

I  went  up,  and  with  Macklorne  attempted  to  raise  the 
body  of  the  unfortunate  Vautrey.  Calling  to  the  attendants 
who  now  approached,  we  succeeded,  with  their  assistance,  in 


384  SAINT  LEGER. 

placing  it  in  the  carriage  which  we  accompanied  to  his  late 
apartments. 

Macklorne  undertook  to  convey  information  of  the  catas- 
trophe to  parties  named  by  Madame  de  Marschelin  as  busi- 
ness aerents  of  the  count.     Friend  or  relative  he  had  none. 


XL. 

The  next  day,  impelled  by  a  curiosity  I  could  not  restrain, 
I  made  inquiry  for  Donacha  and  was  told  that  although 
placed,  as  was  supposed,  in  secure  confinement,  he  had 
managed  to  escape  from  prison  and  could  not  be  found.  I 
learned  afterward  that  in  a  very  short  space  of  time  he  pre- 
sented himself  to  Glenfinglas  at  Kilchurn  Castle,  and  holding 
up  the  blood-stained  dirk,  fell  at  the  feet  of  his  master  and 
expired ;  illustrating  the  nature  of  his  relentless  spirit  and 
the  fierce  and  indomitable  passions  which  sustained  him  to 
the  last. 


XLI. 

It  is  time  to  pause. 

Leila  is  happy  in  the  arms  of  Heinrich  Wallenroth.  Fran- 
cis and  Margaret  Moncrieff  are  both  agreeably  wedded. 
Hubert  and  Ella,  gay  and  light-hearted,  are  satisfied  with 
the  world.  At  Bertold  Castle  time  passes  serenely  and  with- 
out drawback. 

For  myself — what]  Theresa,  I  hasten  to  you — no,  I 
roust  not.     The  resolution  is  taken 

Come,  Macklorne,  let  uf  out  into  life. 

THE    END. 


